#I don’t to be met with questions because I’m wearing leggings or a skirt

[scrambledjenny]

Depression, dysphoria, and dysmorphia is going hard tonight.

[rxzilvia]

hiii, can you right something like jealous Niki??

i love how you write btw🤍

Thank you for the compliment so muchhh, and ofc I can 🫶🫶

Mine to keep

Requested?: yes

Warnings: none

Riki was lounging on the bed, cross-legged, watching you in the mirror as you twirled in the skirt he had picked out for you. It was cute, short, and fit you perfectly, making his stomach flutter in a way he didn't quite expect. The way it hugged your hips had his focus entirely on you

You turned toward him, catching his gaze “How do I look?” you asked, a teasing smile playing on your lips

Riki leaned back, his gaze scanning you carefully, almost too carefully “You look great,” he said, though there was a hint of something in his voice “I’m just trying to decide if I like it on you… or if I should be worried about other people seeing you in it”

You raised an eyebrow and stepped closer “Worried? Are you jealous already?”

Riki smirked but didn’t say anything at first. His hand tugged lightly at the hem of your skirt as if trying to pull it down just a little “Maybe I just don’t like how everyone’s gonna look at you when you walk out there”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your hand resting on your hip “I’m sure you’ll survive. Besides, it’s just a skirt, Riki”

Riki’s eyes softened for a second, then he raised an eyebrow “Yeah, but it’s your skirt,” he muttered, more to himself than to you

You blinked at him, still grinning “I didn’t think you cared that much.”

His expression softened again, though there was still a hint of something on the edge of his smile “I care more than you know,” he said quietly

Before you could respond, a knock at the door interrupted you. Riki gave a soft sigh, and you shot him a look “Seriously?”

But you didn't have time to question him because the door opened, and in came Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Heeseung. They all froze for a moment when they saw you, eyes flicking to the skirt before quickly shifting back up to your face

“Woah, Y/N, you look stunning!” Sunghoon exclaimed, his smile wide

Sunoo, always the flirt, added, “Yeah, you should wear stuff like this more often.”

Riki didn’t miss the way their eyes lingered a little too long on you. His hand tightened on the edge of the bed, his gaze narrowing just slightly as they continued complimenting you. The others didn’t seem to notice, but you could feel the subtle shift in the air

“Thanks,” you said, trying to keep it casual, though you caught Riki’s mood shift. He wasn’t saying anything, but the tension in his shoulders was obvious. He gave a small smile, but you could tell it was forced

Heeseung chuckled, “Riki, your girlfriend’s definitely turning heads, huh?”

You smiled awkwardly, but before anyone else could say anything else, Riki’s hand shot out to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The move was smooth, but his grip was tight

“Y/N, can we talk for a second?” he said quietly. You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his mood "Uh, sure?"

Without waiting for a response, Riki guided you out of the living room, his hand never leaving your waist. As soon as the door to the bedroom closed behind you, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding

“Riki, what’s wrong?” you asked, your brow furrowing as you sat on the bed

He stood there for a moment, running a hand through his hair “It’s just... the way they were looking at you. It felt... I don’t know, like they weren’t just complimenting you. Like they were really looking”

You could see his frustration building, and though you understood his reaction, you reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm “Riki, they were just being nice. You’re overthinking this.”

“I know, I know,” he muttered, but his voice still had an edge to it. “I just... don’t like seeing them look at you like that. Especially when you look this good”

You sighed softly, standing up to stand in front of him “I get it, you’re protective. But I’m not going anywhere”

Riki finally met your eyes, his expression softening “I just don’t want anyone thinking they can have you. It’s not about trusting you. It’s just... I don’t want them thinking they have a chance”

You chuckled softly, stepping closer “You’re the only one I want, Riki”

He gave you a small, relieved smile, though his hands still rested on your waist like he wasn’t quite ready to let go “Good.. i love you..”

You smiled, planting a gentle kiss to his lips before snuggling in his lap "I love you too.."

[starogeorgina]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

Warning: Swearing, smut

Pairing: Helaena Targaryen × OC

1.05

Helaena’s soft lips meet the side of your neck. “I don’t recall ever seeing you in a dress before. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Heat creeps into your cheeks, but you do your best to disguise it. “Although, if I’m completely honest, I feel ridiculous. I’ve never found dresses flattering on me or practical.”

“Practical?” Helaena shuffles further up the bed and takes your hand, gently pulling you down to join her on the uncomfortable bed. “What can’t you do while wearing a dress?”

“Sparing, horseback riding, hunting.”

She rolls her eyes in jest. “You are aware it’s possible to enjoy doing both?”

“I know some ladies enjoy doing both. I just prefer not to. Rhae—Princess Rhaenyra insisted I had this dress, and I didn’t want to cause an argument by saying no.”

“Hm.” Helaena tilts her head back, her hair-free braids flowing down her back. “I think it’s kind of for her to do.”

You shrug. “I suppose.”

Helaena gently traces your jaw line with her; the look she gave you was intense. That was the thing with Helaena; she was beautifully haunted-looking, and her eyes always had a story behind them.

She nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck and, after a moment, starts gently kissing till she reaches the bottom of your ear. Bringing her lips to meet yours, her hand gently grabs your breast. As always, you let Helaena take the lead; sometimes she was content with a simple kiss, and other times she wanted more. Either way, you were happy to be with her. The kiss becomes more heated. Helaena gently pushes you to lay back on the bed, brings your skirts up, then spreads your legs, then her own, before positioning her cunny above your own, then grinds down against you.

Helaena's fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh to keep her stable. Both of you still had your small clothes on, but even with the added layers between you, it still felt incredible with the pressure against your clit. It doesn’t take Helaena long to reach her peak; she grips a hold of your breast as perfect moans leave her mouth.

You come undone not long after, and Helaena curls up next to you.

—

“Can I ask you something?”

Helaena was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, looking content as she worked on her needlework. She nods ever so slightly while remaining focused on the task she was doing.

“Why did you start going to pleasure houses?” You thought it was a fair question to ask since that was where you first met Princess Helaena, and after all this time, why she even started sneaking out of the keep remained a mystery. When she doesn’t answer, you worry you’ve offended her. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable—”

“Because of Aegon.”

That wasn’t the answer you were expecting, “Aegon?”

“I asked him why he would always go with his friends, and he said aside from dragon riding, it was the only place he could be free. And that’s what I wanted—to be free.”

A woman would never truly be free.

Helaena stops doing her needle work and looks over her shoulder. “You should tell Prince Daemon.”

“Hmm, I’d rather not.”

“I’m making this for the babe. Soon you’ll be married and making things for your own child.”

For some reason, her words make you feel slightly sad. “I’m not like you. I don’t have maternal instincts. I pity any babe I have.”

“You’ll be a great mother one day. Both Lord Stark and any future children will be lucky to have you.”

A few beats pass before speaking again. You swallow thickly and say, “It won’t be long until the sun comes up. I was thinking you haven’t really seen Dragonstone before; you should come join me, and I’ll show you the island. I’m sure Dreamfyre would enjoy it; all the dragons seem to strive there.”

Gently, Helaena cups your cheek; the glossiness of tears has suddenly appeared in them. She looks frightened. “It is our fate, I think, to crave what we cannot have. I am made of spools of green, and you are made of spools of black.”

—

“I’m fine, Ser Marbrand; there is no need to alert Prince Daemon. I only tripped, walking back up.”

The knight looks as if he wants to argue, but he simply nods and closes the door to your quarters. Hearing a familiar squeal, you run over to your window and watch the cannibal take flight from the beach. He had landed next to the carcass of a horse on a small hill higher up on the path you’d normally walk on. Climbing back down on the damp rocks to reach the path you slipped, scraping the side of your left arm before hitting the ground, dirt sticking to your face and hands.

Stepping away from the window, you remove your jacket, sit down in front of your vanity, and start picking leaves from your hair.

The door to your chamber suddenly swings open, and Rhaenyra begins to rush inside. “Vissera!” she gasps. “One of my ladies said you were hurt; why didn’t you call for a maester?”

“I’ve only scratched my arm; I’ll live.”

Her expression is hard to read; she remains tight-lipped for a few moments, then says, “You’ve got dirt in your hair.”

Rhaenyra picks up a comb and gently starts detangling the messed-up hair and brushing the dirt out. Her touch was gentle and motherly, and you absolutely hated the way it made you feel. Rhaenyra wasn’t your mother, and there was no point in allowing yourself to pretend.

A wave of grief suddenly hits you, and you leap from the chair and say, “Stop, just stop!”

Rhaenyra looks completely baffled. She gulps down, "If I have offended you—“

“Offended me?” You scoff. Shaking your head, you say, “Nobody’s here for me.”

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Rhaenyra steps closer to you and wipes away a fallen tear. She attempts to cup your cheek, but you back away from her.

“I know the feeling,” she says softly. “But you aren’t alone. Your father, your siblings, and I all care for you deeply.”

“Aside from my dragon, I’ve spent the last few years alone.”

Her eyes are full of sympathy, which angers you further. You didn’t want her pity. “Your father wanted you here.”

“I always thought Daemon would come back for me, but then he married Lady Laena and had Baela and Rhaena leavening me behind in Runestone without a parent. Then, when Lady Laena died, I thought he might want me. I would have been able to comfort my sisters because I knew what it was like to not have a mother. I even went looking for Daemon on the beach at his wife’s funeral and saw you together on the beach.”

“Vissera…”

“He doesn’t care about anyone, not really.”

“Daemon loves you.”

“No, he doesn’t.” You go and sit on the edge of your bed. Years of pent-up emotions are starting to spill out. “Do you have any idea how many times I visited the brothels in King's Landing just to try and gain his attention? And not once did he care.”

She smiles softly and says, "Oh, he did. There was a reason no man ever tried to be improper with you. He had made it clear anyone who even attempted it would be cut down by dark sister.”

Standing in front of you, Rhaenyra takes your hand in hers. “I apologize if I’ve played a part in making you feel unwanted. You remind me much of myself at your age; I felt completely alone until I had Jace.”

“Didn’t you have Daemon by your side?”

“No,” she says, rubbing at her bump. “He left me when I needed him most.”

You were surprised; for years, you thought it was only yourself he had let down.

—

“I was about to send all the knights on the island looking for you,” your father laughs. He looks between you and Rhaenyra and says, "Is everything okay?”

“Yes.”

You and the princess had a long conversation about her life in the keep, and how lonely she felt, which is why she always went back to your father. Rhaenyra wasn’t completely innocent, but neither were you.

“We were just spending a little time getting to know each other better.”

Rhaenyra discreetly squeezes your hand before going to sit beside your father at the table you'll be dining at. You sit down at the opposite side of the table next to Jacaerys, who gives you an appreciative nod just as the food is served.

Just as the meal was finished, Lucerys handed you a scroll. “I almost forgot; the maester asked me to give you this.”

You doubted that was completely true; Luke probably offered so you would have something to talk about. “Why thank you, Luke.”

He smiles brightly.

You wanted to meet the young boy halfway since he was trying to make an effort with you. “A friend gave me a book about dragons that has blank pages; perhaps in the morrow you can write about Arrax.”

“I’d love to.”

You smile at him, remaining smiling when you open up the scroll. As you read over the handwritten words, you feel your stomach drop. Jacaerys notices the sudden change in your mood and whispers, “What’s wrong?”

It seems the princess who consumed so much of your thoughts no longer wanted to see you. “I suddenly don’t feel well; excuse me.”

You abruptly leave the table and speed walk to the point of almost running back towards your quarters while fighting to hold back tears.

—

The letter Helaena wrote didn’t make sense; the more times you read it, the more confusing it was. It felt off; rejection was one thing, but the wording of it just seemed cruel. Your eyes swelled with fresh tears; it pained you to know this is how she really felt about the time you’d spent together.

There’s a light knock at your door, “come in.”

You expect to see another jug of wine being brought into the room, but instead it’s Jacaerys with a worried look on his face. “I’m guessing you’re feeling better now,” he says, motioning to the empty goblet on your table. “Have you been crying?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Very well. I didn’t mean to bother you; I just wanted to make sure—”

You force a smile, and you brush your braided hair back behind your shoulder. “I said I didn’t want to talk about it, not that I wanted to be alone. Care to join me?”

He looks hesitant; no doubt Rhaenyra wouldn’t be happy if he got drunk with you. Sighing, you say, “You don’t need to drink with me; just stay for a little bit.”

He looks slightly happier with that offer, and he comes to join you at the table.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 3

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

I boarded the carriage with Roger and Alfons, who I was coming along with on the mission.

Kate: So what in the world is a “death party”?

(And…not to mention, how’s this related to it?)

Kate: Why was I forced into a dress?

After finishing breakfast this morning, I was taken to the dresser room where, for some reason, the maids dressed me up.

Roger: Hm? So you just came along without knowing anything? I don’t know how you managed to survive this long, lil’ lady. I’m impressed.

If you’re going to say it like that, then I have plenty to say back.

Kate: I thought that since I became your exclusive Fairytale Keeper, you’d be the one explaining everything to me!

Roger: Ah, is that what you thought? My bad. Then I’ll explain it to you in plenty of detail.

(You’re the one that brought me here without a word, so why the sudden courtesy…)

…At any rate, Roger explained the mission to me from the beginning.

There’s said to be a secret party held every night in a noble’s estate deep within the forest.

Rumors of fatal accidents there caught Her Majesty the Queen’s attention.

The rumors grew until eventually, the police made an attempt to go undercover.

—However, the team going undercover already had their identities marked and so were turned away by the guards at the door.

(Then, we’re currently going to a place where even the police can’t get in…?)

Kate: In that case, isn’t there a chance that we’d get turned away too…

Alfons: You don’t need to worry about that.

A card the size of a playing card twirled between Alfons’ long fingers.

Alfons: We already have an invitation. All that is left is for us to sneak in disguised as nobility.

Thin lips curled into a smirk.

Alfons: Ah, would you like to know where I got such an invitation?

Kate: …I’ll pass.

Crown had so many secrets that there’d be no end to it if you wanted to know them all.

Roger: That brings us back to the dress you’re wearing. You need to be accompanied by a woman for the party, which is why you’re all dressed up and coming with me.

(The reason’s simpler than I thought. Which leaves the problem in question…)

Kate: What happens at the secret party?

Roger: We suspect there’s a high chance they’re using some sort of drug at the party.

Kate: Using drugs at the party? Why?

Alfons: For “recreational” purposes.

Roger: Are you aware of the Pharmacy Act?

Kate: No, I’m not very familiar with things related to the law…

Roger: The UK enacted the Pharmacy Act to regulate the sale of drugs. However, the Pharmacy Act was only enacted several years ago. So it hasn’t taken full effect and people have been using loopholes to use drugs for fun. Under the Pharmacy Act, any potentially harmful substances are classified as poisons and the selling of them is regulated. Her Majesty the Queen’s pushing for making it a law and for public awareness. 

Kate: It’s worrying that there’s still a widespread use of illegal drugs despite the Pharmacy Act…

(The party we’re about to infiltrate is one of those places where drugs are used recreationally…)

Kate: To sum it up…our mission this time is to gather information rather than to condemn?

Roger: Yeah. Infiltrate, seize any drugs used, report. That’s it.

The scene of condemnation I witnessed the night I first met Crown.

I feel a little better knowing that I don’t have to see it this time.

Alfons: Nevertheless— 

(Hm?)

Alfons: You’re really dressed up for the part tonight. This night dress with suuuch a slit that exposes your legs…

Naughty fingers lift the skirt.

Kate: Wha…Please stop.

I rushed to hide myself, but even Roger casted a lewd gaze at the bare skin peeking between my hands.

Roger: I gotta agree. Even with the role as a noble, that’s too much service. You look really delicious.

Kate: Y-you said you wouldn’t touch me because you didn’t want to deal with the aftermath!

Roger: Just ‘cause I find the aftermath a pain doesn’t mean I don’t have sexual desires. Keeping leaving yourself exposed like that and I’m gonna eat you up, so watch out.

Kate: Huh?!

While struck dumbfounded by how Roger said that so nonchalantly, Alfons whispered into my ear.

Alfons: Kate, you’ll need to clad your heart in iron underwear. This man’s a muscle-powered brute.

Roger: Hey now, is that something you call an old friend?

Alfons: We’re friends? Did you perhaps hit your head somewhere?

Apparently the two had known each other for a while now, but—they always argue like this whenever they’re together.

“To be able to argue like this means you’re close”

The last time I said that to them, they both looked so disgusted that I never brought it up again.

(Let’s just set aside how much I believe what Roger said and how well the two get along…)

Kate: Regardless, I want to do my best on the mission.

Alfons: Why?

Kate: Until now, I’ve only been a bystander, but this time, I’m attending a party where women are an essential part. Even as a companion, I can participate in the mission.

(So far, they’ve been considerate of me because of my position as Fairytale Keeper)

(I’ve been watching everyone from a distance)

Kate: I want to fulfill my role as Fairytale Keeper. Of course, I’ll do my best to not hold you back.

The moment I spoke with determination, the carriage passed through the gates of the estate.

Now within the target’s territory, Roger and Alfons took on the “Crown” look.

Alfons: Roger, you’ll need to put that rifle away. We don’t want them turning us away.

--

Using the invitation card from Alfons, we entered the estate without an incident.

Women dressed in glamorous gowns and men in tailcoats, which made it obvious that they were of the upper class, were having pleasant chats over drinks.

Kate: …Huh? Where’s Alfons?

Though he was with us in the beginning, I noticed his absence the moment we entered the hall— 

Roger: Don’t worry about it. Al’s well known in these parts which makes it easy for him to get information. Best to just let him do what he wants like a stray cat.

I was surprised by the lack of a detailed plan before our infiltration, but it seemed that Crown didn’t split their roles.

(They read the situation and then act. Was there a strong relationship of trust?)

(Or was it because each member’s strengths allowed them to handle any situation....)

While thinking it was probably the latter, given how each member had a strong personality, I felt someone’s gaze on me.

(It feels like I’m being watched…?)

I was nervous for a moment, thinking my identity had been exposed. But as I looked around, I realized that wasn’t the case.

—I wonder which family he’s the son of.

—What a lovely man. I’ve never seen him before.

The young ladies’ sweet gazes were fixed on Roger who stood beside me. 

(It slipped my mind since we don’t spend much time outside of Crown’s Castle, but Roger…)

Looks well-bred

Has an intellectual air about him  +4 +4

Has a nice body

(That’s right, the intellectual air’s probably attractive to upper class women…)

His rugged, serious expression, those determined lips, and absolute intelligence radiating from those glasses may capture and trap the hearts of women.

(Sometimes I get nervous when he’s talking to me while standing so close…wait, no, bad!)

Roger calmly looked around the hall, ignorant of the thoughts racing through my mind.

Roger: …Those ladies over there look like they’re showing signs of addiction.

Kate: Signs of addiction…?

Roger: Yeah. Crooked smiles could be a sign that something’s wrong with their central nervous system.

Kate: …Meaning there’s a high chance that recreational drugs are being used?

Roger: Yeah. It’d be faster if we could secure the scene. Then again…if British healthcare was better, we wouldn’t have to deal with tedious cases like this.

I knew what he was getting at. It’s hard to find a doctor you can trust in London.

Kate: We have fake treatments, fake medicine, and even fake doctors…

—When I became Fairytale Keeper, Liam told me something.

~~ Flashback ~~

Liam: Roger comes from a family that’s worked in medicine and his father’s a wealthy man who still runs a clinic in town. With how a lot of Crown have complicated backgrounds, I think Roger’s an unusual one here.

~~ Flashback end ~~

(If his life had continued down the proper path, he could’ve ended up like that young man over there laughing with a glass of wine in hand)

(It wouldn’t have been unusual for Roger to inherit the family business either…)

(But instead, Roger chose the path of condemning evil with evil)

Kate: Roger, why did you join Crown?

Roger: Are you asking why I didn’t inherit the family business and end up like those guys enjoying wine and women?

(Ugh, he’s sharp…It’s like he’s reading my mind)

Kate: Yes. Even under Her Majesty’s control, Crown’s still dangerous. Unless there was some kind of specific reason, it doesn’t seem worth it to jump right in.

Roger: Hmm, and if I did have a specific reason? For example, doing research that can only be done there.

(Research that can only be done in Crown…?)

Kate: What are you researching, Roger?

It’s a question I had while in his basement lab too.

Roger scrutinized me behind his glasses and bent down to meet my gaze.

Roger: Cursed Ones—and how to rid the word of them.

(Rid the word of cursed ones? What does he mean…)

I stare back at Roger in confusion.

Roger: I’m cursed with the double-crossing hunter.

“Cursed Ones” were people who were cursed the moment they were born.

Because of their curses, they’re doomed to “sin and meet a tragic end”.

Kate: Betrayal…Is that your fate?

Roger: Yeah. I could actually be someone with pretty dangerous thoughts that betrays Crown, you know?

(...)

Roger: So, Kate. What would you do about it?

(At the time—)

Kate: I’m your exclusive Fairytale Keeper, so I’m keeping an eye on you 24/7. If I think you’re doing anything weird…I’ll do what I can to stop you.

Roger: Pfft, hahahaha! You’re a funny one. You’re too good.

Roger laughed and patted my head.

Kate: Hey, don’t try to change the subject.)

Roger: If you’re gonna be around me 24/7, then you might just end up understanding what I meant.

Alfons: Pardon me for interrupting your fun.

When I turned around at the sound of his voice, I saw Alfons, who was not around earlier.

Alfons: Kate, Roger. We got a hit at this party after all.

Kate: A hit? You mean…

Alfons: There’s an amusing show taking place in the other room. Please come this way.

Letter | Next

[ajaxiscat]

The Bookworm 1/?

I was starting to get a bit burnt out on the other story, and I had been thinking about this one for a while. So I finally put my thoughts to the page. Enjoy.

Worms

Most people think bookworms are people who just like books or insects that eat through the pages. But, for myself and ____? It has a whole different meaning. After all, I’m a borrower who lives in the library where he works. “Cornerstone Town Library” has been my home for twenty-four entertaining, but long years. When I’m writing this, it’s been five years since ____ and I met. I finally got to start keeping a journal this year, because I’m moving into his place. He gave me a notepad today, so I finally got to write down all the interesting things that happened to me at the library. First, I should probably write about how I ended up in this situation.

-Five years earlier.-

-____’s second day on the job- 

Yesterday a new worker started here. Carla moved to Europe, which I don’t mind because she didn’t work in the section I live in. I haven’t seen them yet, but I hope they don’t notice the books shift after hours. Most of the workers don’t, but who knows? Maybe this one will be more attentive, but hopefully not. There are not many houses nearby so it would be hard to move somewhere else. 

After a couple of hours, the Library finally opens, and I notice a new face, he comes in with a stressed expression. He goes up to the counter and apologizes for… being late? This had to be the new guy. He looked like a nice person. 

He wore the outfit all the workers wore, an off-white shirt and a nametag with a bee on it. The workers were allowed to wear jackets too, and he had a red dress shirt with gold stars. He wore green leaf-hanging earrings and rectangle glasses. He had heterochromia, one dark green eye, and one lighter. He had short fluffy brown hair with mixed dark and medium brown hair. 

I always keep track of what the workers wear so I can know who works where and when. I’m not good with names and can barely remember the staff's names. Most of the time I just call them whatever they wear. So it’s likely I’ll call him gold stars. 

Apparently, he got a tour yesterday. I was in the crawlspace for most of yesterday so I didn’t see him before. He’s assigned to my section which is a relief, Sofie, who I call Barbie, used to work in my section. She was rude to older customers and only nice to kids, which makes it not a surprise she’s moved to take over the kid’s section. Eliza, or teal skirt, shows him his tasks. Put away returned books, show people around, and answer questions. 

I decided to doze off on the top shelf of the crimes section, hearing the staff geek out about the job was not entertaining to me in the slightest. I wake up, half asleep, and notice it’s dark out. Teal Skirt wasn’t here, so the library was probably closed, but when I looked down, there was Gold stars cleaning dust off the shelves. Which was weird because I hadn’t seen anyone do that in at least a year. He probably just wanted to make a good impression. But by the time I notice him cleaning the bookshelf I’m on, it’s too late for me to run. I back up against one of the steel beams and hold my breath, but he climbs up the ladder and gasps. Shit. I’m screwed. 

But then I turn around and it’s just a spider. He quickly puts on a glove and grabs it with the paper towel. I flinch as he closes his fist and kills the poor thing. It was only a daddy long leg, so it wasn’t dangerous, though if a kid found it they’d most definitely scream, which would hurt my ears, which means I should technically thank him. By the time I’m done ranting in my head and I’m almost dozing off again, I notice he isn’t moving around. I turn to look where he is, and he’s right there, looming over me. His eyes are wide, but he doesn’t seem upset. Which is never a good sign.

I quickly turned around, going around the steel beam, but once I got to the other side, the sides of my waist were being squeezed by what I can only assume were his fingers. I frantically tried to push his fingers away.

“What even are you, little thing? I must admit you are awfully cute, but I don’t think Eliza will appreciate pests here.”

“No no no! Please let me go!”

“Well, the little bookworm can speak? That’s a surprise. Now, listen here. I won’t hurt you, but I’m not gonna just let you stay here either. How about I release you outside?”

“No… you can’t… I’ll die out there… Please don’t.”

“True,  a little thing like you would probably be in danger out there. How about this, you tell me what you’re doing here, and I might let you stay?”

“I live here. I eat the food they sell at the coffee shop outside. I hide here because there are lots of nooks and crannies that no one looks in. I don’t mean any harm, and I try to stay hidden from humans. Unlike that spider you found that crawled up to you, I stay away from humans like it’s life or death, as it is in most cases.”

“Hm… fine. You can stay, but I want you to stop hiding on the shelves. Someone who’s less merciful than me might find you. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt right after I let you stay.” Thank god. He was gonna let me stay, in other words, let me live. “...And I’m sorry for the way I phrased things. I don’t want you to think I want to hurt you. It’s just that I'm a bit of a mild germaphobe. I don’t want my workspace to be dirty, or any little pests to be running around.”

“Excuse me?”

“No! Sorry, you’re not a pest. I just didn’t know what you were before, and I’m apologizing for treating you like one. That wasn’t right of me. Seeing as you seem to have this all planned out, how long have you been here? I probably have no right to tell you to stay or not.”

“My whole life. Almost twenty years.” “You’re older than I thought. You look young, like a teenager.” “I’m nineteen so you aren’t far off.”

“Still, it wasn’t my place.”

“Are you going to set me down?”

“Right, sorry.” He slowly loosened his grip and released me. “I suppose I might see you around? I’ll probably keep cleaning these shelves every so often so I might catch a glimpse of you.”

“Maybe. Anyways, I’m… I’m gonna go.”

“May I know your name?”

“Valerie. My parents call me Val.”

“Nice to meet you, Valerie. I’m Kaja. Sorry again for the trouble.”“Thanks… Bye Kaja.” I quickly climbed down the shelf and left, I could feel his eyes burning into my back the whole way down. When I got to the carpeted floor I lifted a vent cover, going inside I headed to the crawlspace hatch, where my home was. I picked up the hatch and hopped down into the darkness below.

[havocpersonified]

@beltalks said: ❛ i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know. ❜

Needless to say, the movie he’d been focused so intently on watching with Lola, was soon a distant memory, because all he had to hear were the words, I’m not wearing any underwear, and his focus quickly shifted to Lola, and Lola alone. “Is that so?” Was questioned, as his gaze locked with her own, his lips quickly curving into a small smirk, as his large hand suddenly gripped her knee, urging her to spread those pretty little legs for him. “For some reason, I don’t believe you, and need to find out if you’re lying to me or not.” As he was speaking, Roman’s hand slowly drifted underneath that cute little skirt Lola was wearing, breath hitching in his throat when his fingertips were met with the bare flesh of that sweet jewel in between her legs, gaze never leaving her own as those two fingers slipped in between slick folds. “Hmm, I guess you were telling the truth after all.”

[onemaebee]

parenting kids is hard. doing your best to set them up for success and prepare them for the world and not letting it stomp them down and being forced to slowly but surely just LET THEM GO is the fucking hardest part so far. and my oldest is only 10.

Kid2 has been insistent on growing out his hair, despite his great-grandmother’s grumbling (”gma,” we tell her, “it’s not your head.”). Ponytails, shaggy and loose, and he keeps bringing up that he wants to do pigtails once it’s just a wee bit longer. He loves wearing leggings (i got a bunch of d/sney mommy-and-me sets in a lot and practically live in leggings myself, and it’s a Good Day when we coordinate to be Matchy Matchy). he’s been begging me for black tights but we are pretty firm on waiting until it gets cooler because bro you’re gonna MELT. he’s said exactly once so far that he wants to get a skirt to swish around-- in blue, his favorite color.

i’m so fucking scared for him.

we’ve always encouraged to like what you like, hell yeah mommy’s huge mlp collection is fun toys, Kid3 adores pink and unicorns and cute and fluffy things. all of us have some kind of toy collection (husband has wow legos and dbz stars figures mostly, and i have... so many otl). yolo.

respect pronouns, i’ve tried to teach-- my younger sibling is coming back from a few years in japan at the start of next month, and this is the first time they’ll be back since coming out as nb. i’ve had multiple casual talks explaining this to the kids and to use their proper pronouns and ask if they want to be called aunt or uncle. heavens knows our parents+grandparents+most of my siblings won’t do the proper thing.

“love who you wanna love, be who you wanna be, we’ll love you anyway,” i’ve stressed again and again and again.

i was homeschooled and thrown into college and it took me until i was years-married to realize i was bi, and if i hadn’t met husband would have almost definitely gotten with a lady. but i got my gorgeous wonderful husband and don’t regret a single moment. point is, i was never subjected to The Horrors and bullying that i KNOW (and everyone confirms) happens if you are Different.

kid2 is autistic (as is possibly kid4 but he’s still a toddler so it’s still questionable), and already we have had talks when other kids try to get him in trouble because he trusts so easily but these other kids do NOT have your best interests at heart, my love! i know he’s already starting to experience what happens if you’re visibly Different and it makes my heart hurt.

i try to listen when my kids tell me things that are important to them, because it’s ALL Big Important Things and i want them to feel comfortable telling me things i agree are big important things even years later. i hope to god my kids are okay, that we are preparing them and loving them and that they’ll get through life and be happy.

if he’s experimenting, gnc, trans, or something (someone) else, we’ll love him no matter what. i’ll make sure he KNOWS that.

i wish the world wasn’t so hard on kids. i wish i could protect them forever.

[zeltqz]

for the nsfw prompt , no1 with aki hayakawa 👀

I GOTCHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

first time writing aki, kinda nervous lmfaooasofafasofasofjasjfkasfaosfoskoaskfoa anyways.

PROMPT: “Do I look like I’m messing around? Do I look like I won’t punish you?”

length: 2.1k words

content: possessive!aki, name calling (slut), unprotected sex, unfinished orgasm, reader gets punished for misbehaving

“What are you wearing?” Aki looks at you from the far end of the hallway, head tilted in confusion, eyes slightly narrowed as he soaked in your outfit. It wasn’t that you looked horrible—no, it was the complete opposite. 

You looked fucking amazing. Too amazing in fact. You were only going to a friend’s house; that was what you told him. So what business did you have wearing that outside. 

“I’m wearing an outfit?” You look at him as if the answer wasn’t obvious. You soak in his obvious annoyance, amused by the way his lips press together into a thin line, how his eyes narrow even further, clearly not enjoying your answer. 

“Don’t fucking joke around with me, (y/n).” 

You roll your eyes, slapping a palm to your forehead, fed up. “Aki, you always do this—”

“Do what?” Now it’s his turn to sneer at you, answer your questions with the most stupidly sarcastic answers. By the way your lip curls up he can tell you’re getting agitated. Good. “Let you dress outside looking like that?”

You walk into the living room, ignoring him and choose to look at yourself in the mirror. “I look fucking amazing, what’s the issue.”

“No, you look like a slut.” 

Your breath stutters, shutting your eyes closed and counting to three in your head before you do something you’ll regret later. “Actually, I don’t think I look slutty enough. Is it the skirt? Should I cut it shorter? Or should I wear my black heels upstairs? You know, the ones you said make my legs stand out? Or should I put red lipstick on instead of my—”

Aki stands up from the couch so abruptly it catches you offguard, heart thumping three times as hard as he approaches you with a look on your face that should intimidate you, but instead finds yourself pressing your thighs together. “Do I look like I’m messing around?” He starts, voice flat and low. When he’s met with silence, his hand darts out to your wrist to tug you closer to him. “That wasn’t rhetorical. Answer me.”

You could continue acting like a brat, could walk out that door right now but you don’t want to deal with Aki when he’s annoyed. Though, the dicking would be worth it, it’s not worth the argument. “...no.”

“Do I look like I won’t punish you?”

“...no.”

“Then go change.” He lets go of your wrist and you glare at him as he turns around to head back to the couch. You storm up the stairs, taking off the skirt you decided to wear tonight, frowning as you place it in your drawer. 

“You’re dressed like a slut.” You mock his voice as you change into a pair of shorts. “Does it look like I’m messing around? Go fuck yourself, peice of shit.” You put a new t-shirt, one that’s less revealing and change shoes before heading back downstairs. “You happy now?”

Aki gives you a side-eye, not wanting to give you the attention you clearly want so badly. “Yeah.” 

“You know—” You start as you walk into the living room, stopping until you’re standing right in front of him, “I only changed because I wanted to. Not because you told me.”

He looks up at you like he doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, and quite frankly you don’t blame him, because you also didn’t believe a word you were saying. “I can dress however I want.”

“Then go outside dressed like that and see what happens.”

“...”

“Well?” He quirks a brow at you and you purse your lips into a frown, unsure whether or not to take the bait. 

“Fine. I will.”

He chuckles, not saying anymore before leaning back into the couch, flicking through the different channels. 

You wait for any sort of reaction…but you’re met with nothing. So you head back upstairs to change into that same outfit you had before and walk down the stairs with a newfound smile on your face. “I’m leaving now!”

You close your eyes, initially waiting for his outburst, hoping he gets angry enough to choke you the way that you like. The sex is always better when he’s angry.

 “Okay, bye have fun.”

What? He isn’t even looking at you. He’s not even paying you attention, not even bothered by the fact you’re about to head out dressed like this— 

“Aki? Did you hear me? I said I’m going.”

“I know. Have fun.” 

Oh fuck, he’s mad at you. This didn’t feel as good as you thought it would. He won’t even look at you. “Aki?” You stumble into the living room, flopping down next to him on the couch. You trail your index and middle fingers walking up the length of his arm and rest your head on his shoulder to grab his attention. “...Aki?”

Two fingers hook under his chin, pulling his face towards you. For the first time in what feels like forever (it’s been about two minutes), he finally looks at you. “Aki.” You repeat his name for the third time and he raises his eyebrows at you with a soft nod, basically asking what you want.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“You mean that?” You lift his hand, placing it on your thigh. You expect him to caress you like he usually does, but he keeps it there, almost still like a mannequin. “Babe?” You test out the waters, pressing your lips to his quickly to see if he would deepen it, but it was as if you were kissing a doll. 

He didn’t even reciprocate. 

You slide your purse off your shoulders, kicking off your heels, not caring about where they land in the room before you’re lifting a leg up to straddle him.

He moves his head away from your body, as if you were merely a distraction and tries to look at the TV instead. You didn’t like that. Not one bit. Grabbing onto his chin, you lift his gaze up to your face. “Kiss me.”

You smile when you see him finally cave, sliding his hands up your waist, resting them on the flat of your back before moving them down to your ass. You lean down, cupping the sides of his face, pulling him as close to your body as possible.

His tongue pressed between your parted lips, giving you ticklish kitten licks before you wrap your lips around the muscle. The taste of mint from the gum he’d been chewing earlier lingers on your tongue the longer he kisses you.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter against his lips, pressing your forehead against his own. Your hands slide down from his face, tracing a path down his chest, lingering on his stomach a little bit before grabbing onto his hands. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

He looks down at where your hands are connected before trailing his gaze back up your body. You look so good tonight; he’s just itching to touch you, mark you, fuck you. 

The thoughts of everything he wants to do to you invade his mind, filthy thoughts going straight to his dick and you feel it harden underneath you. “Someone’s excited.” You smirk and roll your hips down and biting your lip at the friction.

“Shut up.” He smiles, leaning back against the couch and pulling you forward. The action happens so fast, you barely have time to brace your arms on the backrest of the couch by his head.  You giggle when you feel his lips on your neck, gently kissing your skin and sucking hard enough to feel the blood rushing to the surface. 

“You look good tonight.” His voice is muffled inside your neck but you heard it. 

“Even though I look like a slut?”

He presses one last kiss to your neck before he’s pulling away to look you in the eyes. “Yeah, but you’re my slut.”

You hide your face in his neck and groan with a strained laugh. “Don’t say things like that…”

“What’s the matter?” He rubs a soothing hand along the spine of your back, enjoying the feeling of your nose breathing out air against his neck. It’s ticklish. “You know you’re mine, right?”

“Yeah.” He runs his hands down past your skirt, lifting the fabric up and over your ass, grabbing it with his big hands. You let out a shaky groan against his neck as one of his fingers run past the line of your panties, barely crossing the space between your folds and the fabric.

His touch sends shivers down your spine, a shudder escaping you when he finally pushes your panties aside to feel how wet you are. 

“Does dressing like a slut turn you on this much?” He says in reference to your slick on his fingers. You’re almost embarrassed with how wet you are, the moist noise coming from between your legs the longer he traces your folds with his middle finger. “Wanted people to stare at you, didn’t you? Hm?”

“No…”

“Yeah you did.” He places a hand at the back of your head, holding you in place to avoid your squirming around  as he pushes a finger inside. You gasp out against his neck, lip quivering as he stretches your walls out, pushing his finger into the hilt.  “Want people to daydream about what they can’t have, hm?”

“...”

“Say something.”

You curl your hands into fists as you gasp out, “Want you inside me…please.” 

You almost regret your words because he’s pulling his finger out almost immediately. Your pussy clenches around nothing, the stiff coldness in the living room fans against you. “Hurry, please.”

“Yeah, hold on.” Aki lifts you up and off his lap, wiping his finger across his jeans before he’s pulling them down enough to pull out his cock. “Alright, come here.” He’s urging you forward with a hand on your back and you’re eagerly bracing your hands on either side of his shoulders, lifting your hips high enough for him to align his cock.

You lean down to kiss him, sliding your tongue against his bottom lip as you start to sink down on it, relishing in the feeling of his strong hands slowly pushing you down to the hilt. You tilt your face the opposite angle as your hips press against his own, moaning into his mouth at the sensation of his cock filling you, how deep he is right now, the small twitches his cock gives as it’s nestled perfectly between your walls.

“Move.” He mutters, sitting back to watch you ride him like his slut. Biting your lip hard you almost draw blood as you lift yourself up and off, slowly…

You throw your head back, shaky hands finding refuge on his knees behind you and start rolling your hips in a way that has his cock stimulated from every possible angle. 

“So good for me.” He digs his neat manicured nails into the plush of your hips, pressing a wet kiss to your neck, licking up the line of your throat before spanking you, groaning deep and low when you clench around him. “Work for it,” he pants against your skin, tongue sliding out to lick your jawline.

A single hand flys to his hair, keeping him pressed as close to you as possible while you balance yourself with your other hand on his knee. His soft lips nipping at the skin just underneath your jaw has you spirialing, heat bubbling inside your stomach the longer you sit on his cock.

It’s not enough though. There’s a spot inside you, itching to be touched, but you can’t reach it from this angle. “Aki—help please.” 

He breaks away from your neck to look at your desperate face. Your lips are parted, breathy pants escaping out of it, your eyes are unfocused and he’s sure you can see two of him right now. “Help with what?”

“Can’t reach—nn—spot, please.” You know you sound ridiculous, unable to form the most basic of sentences right now but you don’t care; maybe you can feel embarrassed about it later, but right now? You need him to reach that spot.

Aki smirks, pressing a kiss to your lips before he’s pulling you up and off his lap. You frown, unhappy at the now emptiness inside you but realise he’s probably just switching positions.

It’s a shock to you when you see him lay you down on the couch and stand up, tucking his still hard cock back into his pants. “Aki—?”

He leans in, arms caging you inbetween him and the couch. A sneaky smirk crawling onto his face as he mutters, “I told you I’d punish you didn’t I?”

Unbelievable. “But I was so—”

“You can finish yourself off.”

[mrshigurumasshop]

Deem It the Pregnancy T-Shirt… Jujutsu Kaisen Men

feat. ~ gojo, geto, toji, and nanami (modern au)

about ~ you find one of their shirts and proudly deem it the pregnancy t-shirt with your favorite memories wearing the deemed shirt

content warning ~ just fluff really, everyone is soft versions of themselves, fluffy, pregnancy tings with a hint of angry reader but it’s the hormones. Reader is uncomfortable in all of them bc let’s be real most of the time being pregnant can make you uncomfortable. Toji’s somehow went on longer than I intended

This isn’t proofread because I’m tired. Enjoy!!

Gojo Satoru…

You found the shirt while he was at work. you were about 16 weeks (4 months) into the pregnancy when it was your turn to do the laundry. ‘Toru’s shirt was just a regular dark navy blue shirt that you knew would be big enough for you to fit in it the rest of your pregnancy. So you deemed it the shirt!

When Gojo came home after a rather long day of work, he was more than happy to come home to the sight of his shirt covering your tiny tummy at the time.

“Hi, ‘Toru,” you smiled at him as you were cutting some veggies.

“Hi sweetheart,” he smiles back in awe as he walks behind you to wrap his arms around your body being mindful of your growing tummy. “I see that you’ve raided my drawers, hm?” he smiles into the crook of your neck with a gentle kiss.

“Yep! It’s the t-shirt now,” you giggle happily.

Gojo lifts his head in curiosity as he repeats what you said in question. “What does that mean?” he laughs.

“I don’t know,” you shrug nonchalantly as if you didn’t just sound so proud of yourself 20 seconds ago. “I just found it doing laundry and I wanted to wear it,” you smile up at him.

He looks down at you with the same smile he always has towards you since you guys met with such admiration. “You look better in it anyways,” he says before drowning you in kisses.

Usually he’s one to tease the living crap out of you - nearly putting you into a moody but playful state but he’s just so fucking happy to have you as the mother of his child and his wife.

Since then you never took it off. It was the t-shirt for a reason. You wore it at home, to the store, and even to your doctors appointment. Obviously, you’d wash it a lot more than the other clothes already sitting in the hamper because you just couldn’t get enough of it. At first, Gojo couldn’t see all the way through as to why it had to be that shirt when there are others that were there waiting to be used but he didn’t pry into it because it made you happy. He was a firm believer in the saying ‘happy wife; happy life’.

It was also the shirt that you wore on your casual dates with him pairing it with skirts or leggings. It was a perfect shirt in your eyes so you rarely didn’t use it. You had almost burst into tears though when Gojo accidentally got some soy sauce on the shirt because you knew it was going to stain no matter how fast he ran to the bathroom to scrub it off.

You were pushing a good 25 weeks and at that point you did start getting uncomfortable in most of your clothes so his t-shirt was like a comfort blanket to you so you never wanted anything to happen to it without your knowledge. But with Gojo seeing you standing there in your sports bra and leggings with sniffles and a few tears falling already, he nearly bursted into tears too because he hated seeing you cry. Especially when all he wants you to be is comfortable and happy in his clothes.

“No, no, sweetheart don’t cry,” he pleaded.

“B-But…,” you stuttered trying to catch your breath.

“Baby… Hey, come here…,” he coos as he walks towards you to give you a kiss. He cups your cheeks while his thumbs dance around your skin to stop the tears.

“‘Toru, that was my favorite shirt,” you were practically sobbing even more if there was such a thing at this point but you couldn’t control it. You just loved that damn piece of fabric so much.

“I know, I know,” he pouts as he kissed your nose, “But it makes it more memorable, yeah? More special for both my girls.”

You nodded with sniffles as he leaned down to press a loving kiss on your lips. “Can you try washing it again?” you mumble.

“Of course, baby”

3 years later, you were wearing it again for your second pregnancy with your little boy.

Geto Suguru…

You were around 20 weeks pregnant with your baby boy when you found an old high school blue sweatshirt of Geto’s in some boxes you were sorting through. It was nearing the end of November so at this point it was getting more than chilly so you deemed it the sweatshirt!

Geto knew of the boxes full of his old high school memorabilia that his parents had dropped off during the day while he was working. He didn’t make much of a big deal out of it till you showed up to his art classroom at the elementary school with his old sweatshirt on.

“Now what is this, baby,” he laughed as you smiled and waddled a bit towards him, “You taking my high school stuff now?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, “I’m borrowing, first of all and second, I thought this could be my pregnancy sweatshirt.”

Get hummed in response not bothering to question it because he knew what you were talking about. He happens to hear your friend rambling on about how she founds hers while you were on Facetime with her.

Then he bent down to kiss your tummy that was barely sticking out of the huge sweatshirt with a smile. “You look beautiful in it anyway. You and the baby pull it off well,” he mumbled against you stomach making you smile again.

“He missed you,” you whispered to him as you ran your fingers through his long hair.

Geto’s smiled even wider as he felt the baby slowly begin to turn. “Well I missed you to little bean,” he said before standing back up on his feet then giving you a kiss on your lips. “And I missed you to, baby,” he said happily.

And since then you never took the damn thing off. Geto had washed it daily since he started to pick up more of the chores towards the end of your pregnancy because of how early you were getting the contractions. The doctor had put you on bed rest till it was time for you to go into labor and the sweatshirt was the only thing keeping you sane throughout the pain you were going through.

The contractions were pretty long but were very far apart so you know you weren’t there yet to push the baby out but it didn’t change the fact that you felt so tired at this point. And having a cold made it worse.

Geto had walked in to see you curled up on your side with your pregnancy pillow wearing the sweatshirt you proudly picked as your comfort. “Hey,” he smiled at you as he sat at the edge of the bed next to you. You faintly smiled back but the contractions that was nearing made your face pull into a painful expression.

“I’m so tired, Sugu…,” you whispered to him due to your sore throat as you pulled the sleeves down towards your hands.

“I can only imagine, my love. Just rest, okay? I’ll make you some miso soup,” he said with a kiss on your forehead. “Are you cold? Do you want more blankets?” he asked as he massaged your thigh.

You smiled and shook your head. “No, the sweatshirt is keeping me warm,” you softly giggled.

Geto rolled his eyes because he was lowkey jealous that you preferred that damn fabric over him to keep you company but it made you happy so it made him happy as well. “Good,” he smiled.

5 years later, he sees his little boy happily wearing the very oversized sweatshirt on him with your smile.

Toji Fushiguro…

You were going through a rough time during your pregnancy so it was hard for you to be comfortable at all. That was until Toji gave you one of his black t-shirts after the waiter at the restaurant accidentally spilled water all over you.

“That little fuck,” Toji groaned as you both walked into your home, “He’s a waiter, shouldn’t he know how to carry a tray of drinks?”

You giggle as you rubbed your stomach while waddling through the kitchen to get something to drink. “It’s okay, honey. I was actually more comfortable in this shirt if that’s makes you feel better,” you smiled at him.

It did in fact made him feel better because he was so gravely concerned about you and how uncomfortable you are all the time. “Good,” he smiled as he walked towards you, “I would e hunted that waiter down for making you feel worse.” He kissed your lips as you laughed against him.

“I think I might keep this shirt, you know,” you smiled up him as he wrapped his arms around your body.

Toji rolled his eyes because that would be like the 100th piece of clothing you stole from him since before you guys even got married. “You want more of my stuff than you already have?” he groans making you laugh again.

“Yes, my love. But this one will be my pregnancy t-shirt,” you cooed to him.

“The fuck is that?” he questioned.

And boy, did he get that answer few weeks after that conversation. You never to the stupid shirt off even if he asked you if he could wear it for work. You straight up told him with a firm ‘no’ with a scowl written on your face. You wore it everywhere… It was getting a little annoying on Toji’s side because first of all, it needed to be washed and second there were stains all over it.

So, he finally took such drastic measures to at least wash it for you while you were in the bath. He knew that you’d be in there for a while because it was keeping you relaxed after having morning sickness at 30 weeks. It came out of no where after not having it at all during your first trimester so it put you in a bad mood.

Then your mood had gotten worse when you left the tub rather earlier than you usually do because your little girl was turning too much for your liking. You came out of the bathroom in your robe into the bedroom and much to your dismay, your deemed t-shirt was missing.

“Honey!” you shouted frantically as you wobbled around the room.

Toji booked it into the bedroom from the living room hearing the stress in your voice. “Baby?! What’s wrong?!” he said as he started to frantically look around the room as if it was on fire.

“Where’s the shirt??” you asked with near tears forming as you kept waddling back and forth from your room to the walk in closet. “I-I left it right here!” you said sadly.

Toji sighed with a small breath of relief realizing nothing is wrong but he couldn’t ignore the amount of emotions you were going through. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. I put it in the washer because it was dirty,” he said to you.

You snapped your head towards him with shock written on your face like a very dramatic wounded lover. “Why?!” you raised your voice as tears spilt like a broken dam on your face.

“W-Wait! Why are you crying?? It’s just a shirt,” he said as he frantically walked towards you.

“It’s not just a shirt,” you said in disbelief and a scowl nearly being borderline permanent on your face. “Why would you say that, Toji! It was the only thing I was comfortable in and now it’s not gonna smell like you,” you cried out loud.

Guilt rang through his body like a doorbell hearing your sobs. He just wanted it to be clean for you because you wore it everywhere and everyday. It was borderline line getting stiff as a board before he threw it in the wash. “Y/n, sweetheart,” he said in a gentle voice, “It’s almost done washing then I’ll pop it in the dryer right away, okay?” he asked as he began to wiped your tears away with his thumbs.

“You’re such an ass,” you sniffled to him.

“I know, baby. I’m the most unruly man on the planet and I don’t deserve such a beautiful wife at my side,” he smiled at you as you giggled with your tears slowing down. “I’ll throw myself in prison for treason,” he said dramatically.

You laughed again with your sniffles following after. “M’sorry…,” you mumbled as you buried your face into his chest.

“Don’t be sorry, my love. You deserve everything you want,” he said as he kissed your forehead.

Couple months later, you were still wearing the shirt as you were breastfeeding your daughter. Toji had to look away because he got jealous.

Nanami Kento…

You had asked Nanami to buy you cherry popsicles on a boiling hot day. And being 27 weeks pregnant and sweating profusely was ruining your so far easy pregnancy. Till you found one of Nanami’s blue button up shirts.

Nanami walked in to see you opening the balcony door in nothing but your underwear and his button-up shirt with your hair thrown up into a messy bun. God, you looked so beautiful in his eyes that he couldn’t stop staring at you.

“Darling, I brought your popsicles,” he said walking towards you with a soft smile.

You threw your head back in in great-fullness with a wide smile. “Oh my god, thank you, my love,” you said to him as you grabbed the box full of them from his hand. But before you could walk away and open them, Nanami gently intertwined his fingers with yours, pulling you towards him. You looked at him with a soft smile and tilted your head, “What is it, love?” you asked.

Nanami shook his head softly as he brought your hand up to his lips. “I love seeing you in my shirt. I think you should dress like this more often,” he cooed.

You rolled your eyes playfully and leaned up to kiss him. “It’s comfortable in the scorching hot day,” you giggled, “I’ll be keeping this for myself.”

“My white-shirts aren’t enough?” he sighed with the same smile.

“Never,” you laughed and kissed him again.

You wore the button-up for most of the summer leading into the fall as your due date was coming up fast. You worked from home most of the time so you always felt comfortable with the cool fabric against your skin. Nanami never complained about you always wearing in even thought it was starting to get to the point where’s it’s seen better days.

He knew that once you started getting closer to your due date, it might get harder on you. He did what he could to be home with you to tend and spoil your needs so he worked half days at home and half days at work. But today, he ended up having to stay in the office because of a international meeting coming up.

Since he has taken such great care of you, you took thought you’d bring him a late lunch despite your contractions that were growing a little longer. You didn’t think much of it because you were still a few weeks away so you just walked it off like it was nothing.

You knocked on his office door and he answered right away saying you could answer. “Hi, baby!” you cheered.

Nanami sighed a breath of relief seeing your beautiful self waddle through his office door. It made it day seeing you in the deemed pregnancy shirt. “Hi, darling. What are you doing here?” he asked as he got up to greet you with a kiss.

“I brought food because I know for a fact that you skipped lunch,” you playfully scolded.

“Caught me red-handed,” he chuckled as he grabbed hem of the button-up shirt you tucked into the white skirt you paired it with. “Beautiful as always,” he mumbled in admiration.

“Thank you-,” you stop mid-sentence with a gasp and what sounded like a bucket of water pouring onto the wood flooring. You and Nanami looked at each other with wide eyes then slowly moved your gazes down to see a literal pull sitting in between your legs. “K-Kento…,” you gasped again, “Was that…,”

“Your water broke,” he finished your sentence then looked up at you , “Darling… The babies are coming.” He laughed with a smile.

“Holy mother of god…,” you mumbled as a small contraction started to creep up on you.

“Okay, I have the bags in my car so we can head out to the hospital. I’ll call right now to let them know we’re on our way,” he said as he shuffled around the office gathering his things. “Darling?” he called out to you due to your quietness.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” you laughed nervously as you rubbed your stomach, “I can’t take a shower first though? I feel like I peed myself.”

He laughed with you and clasped his hands with yours. “I have wipes and extra clothes for you, my love. And all your toiletries as well,” he said.

You smiled at him and cupped his cheek with your free hand. “We’re gonna be parents…,” you whispered to him. He nodded in response with a smile. “Okay, let’s go because I just realized that I have to pop two babies out,” you said as you waddled away from him out of the office.

Nanami laughed as he watched you frantically waddle away with the stain of your water breaking between your legs. You’d slap him for thinking it was cute.

21 hours later, your baby girl and boy were born and just like Toji, Nanami got a little jealous seeing you feed the babies while wearing his shirt.

Tehe, I had a lot of fun writing this! I hope you enjoyed!💗

[cositapreciosa]

I love Kitty so much and I never realized it😭 I just love the way you portray his carelessness and wilderness. Can I request something about him helping muse get out of her comfort zone/challenging her to bring out the wild in her too

Salvaje

Arturo '' Kitty '' Paez x female!reader (use of spanish female pet names, you are wearing a skirt, mention of drug use/alcool, beating someone up, the usual for the show), 2309 words

a/n : Another Kitty fic for the fam 😌 i am begging plz someone get on the Kitty Paez gif train, I am this close to paying @yourlocalspacewitxch and yall know that means i'm having a mental breakdown

As always it's the fictional, not the real deal, enjoy xx

‘’ Ven pa' cá. ‘’ Arturo looks up to you as you stand in front of him, raising his beer to his lips ‘’ Sit with me. ‘’

On his lap he means, you can never seem to be able to sit on a chair when he’s in the room. His embrace is inviting, legs spread on the leather booth, his shirt slightly unbuttoned. It’s for the style, mami, he always says, It’s not church day today, is it?

‘’There are other people in the room, Arturo. ‘’ you scold him.

The music is loud around you, flashes of blue and pink lights spreading around the floors and across your face. It is always a bit too public for your liking, when he pulls you down to him and tucks you to his chest, runs his hand on your thigh,

‘’ They won’t tell your mom we had sex before marriage if that’s what you’re scared of. ‘’

‘’ ¡Ay! That’s not it, grosero. ‘’ you cry out, eyes wide. After a minute, you cave in with a sigh, falling down next to him.

Saying no to him has proven time and time again to be difficult because you did want to sit on his lap most of the time. His arm moves around you, fingers wrapping around your hair, playing with the strands. His thigh is warm against yours. It tugs at your chest but you still do it, stretching your legs over his lap, sliding a bit closer to his side.

‘’ You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to. ‘’

You had never been the most outgoing person, preferring to stay in your routine, the things you knew and could stick to, never one for public affection. That is until you started going out with Arturo Paez of all people,

‘’ I know. ‘’ your fingers caress his jaw, ‘’ I don’t mind it tonight. ‘’

His eyes look at you over his glasses, questioning, laughing. He always knows. You roll your eyes, pushing his head away from yours with a laugh,

‘’ Alright, alright, I feel so fucking exposed right now. This skirt is way too short. ‘’

He kisses his teeth, smiling as he tugs the material down your thighs a bit,

‘’ I mean, it does look super hot and long enough in my opinion. I can give you my jacket if you want? ‘’

You shake your head, taking a beer from the table. When you first met him, you thought nothing good would come out of it. In a way, Arturo was everything you weren’t, and what you believed was going to be a summer fling, rapidly turned more serious as the weeks went on. For someone so careless, he did take great care in respecting your boundaries and making sure everyone around you did the same,

‘’ I’m good, guapo. I wanted to wear it, I’ll tough it out. ‘’

You take a sip from your beer, looking around. The second floor of Roxanne always seemed to be the place everyone would end up. You didn’t mind it, free drinks, good company, and the once-in-a-while heart attack while trying to keep Arturo out of fights. I won’t let them talk to you like that, he always shouts, throat raw and sunglasses on the floor. He tends to be quick with his fists, your man, and as much as you wish you could be there every time to stop the blood from spilling, you know it is simply impossible.

You feel your legs slip from his lap as he stands up. He makes sure to pull your skirt down one more time before straightening up,

‘’ You want something else to drink? This tastes like piss. ‘’

You snort, pushing the bottle into his hand for him to dispose of,

‘’ Please, I’ve never had a beer this disgusting ever. ‘’

‘’ I don’t even know why you always take one anyway,‘’ he retorts with a smile.

‘’ When in ‘dumb boys who only drink piss-tasting beer’ territory, do as the dumb boys do. ‘’

He laughs, taking your chin between his fingers, teasing.

‘’ I’m pretty sure this is not how the saying goes, mami. ‘’

Your hand presses against his stomach, pushing him away playfully. The smile on your face is wide and genuine. There’s something intimate about the moment as if the music slowed down and the lights stopped throbbing,

‘’ I’m pretty sure you don’t even know what the saying even is. ‘’

He mocks your words back to you, brown eyes rolling behind his shades,

‘’ You want that cocktail, sí o no? ‘’

You nod, keeping your mouth shut this time as you watch him disappear into the crowd. Months ago you would have stayed home on a Saturday night, you were content those days, alone and with few friends, doing your thing. You are still as content now as you were back then, when Arturo picks you up in the middle of the night, throwing rocks at your window, when he tells you to jump in the pool with him, telling you the owners are not coming home for weeks as he pulls on your bikini straps,

‘’ You’re Kitty’s girlfriend, right? ‘’

There are new legs in front of you, tight jeans and unlaced running shoes. Far from the colorful slacks and polo shirts you are used to seeing,

‘’ I guess you could say that,‘’ you answer back, looking up.

You have met him before, at another party, again all tight pants and unkempt shoes. You can’t remember his name, as much as you try, but you do remember Ramon telling you that he didn’t like him. Untrustworthy, he had said, a rat that would sell us out the second they come knocking. You didn’t realize what he was talking about at the time. They do let him hang out once in a while, something about ‘a big pool’ and ‘free shots’. His eyes are fixed on you, unmoving, glazed,

‘’ You guess? ‘’

Whatever fun you had is now long gone. You take a deep breath, he is way more in your personal space than you had realized. He is a man your age, you can tell, pupils blown, drugged out on god knows what, and with the confidence of a madman,

‘’ I would leave me alone if I were you. ‘’

He takes a step forward, knees bumping into yours. Your tongue rolls in your mouth, don’t bite, that’s what he wants, don’t do it. You can tell how sweaty he is from your seat, nose twitching,

‘’ Why? Cause he’s scary and all? ‘’

His fingers reach out, grabbing your cheek as if scolding a child, lips curling in anger. You shake his hand off,

‘’ Pendejo, I’ll tell you once, step back- ‘’

‘’ You think I’m scared of him?! ‘’

This feels personal at this point. You can tell. Whatever this is, whoever you are, it doesn’t matter. It’s all about Arturo, Kitty. You are not sure how it happens, how your fingers wrap around an empty beer bottle laying on the table, how the words coming out of your mouth sound so menacing, so not you,

‘’ Me tocas otra vez, and I’ll kill you. ‘’

He takes a step forwards and the bottle smashes the right side of his head, shards of glass flying around, biting into your skin. The movement is swift, precise, bullseyes. The music doesn’t stop, but the people around you do, standing still, waiting for what comes next. The boy hasn’t moved yet, head on the side, blood dripping down his face. That shut him up for sure. You didn’t miss how Ramon stood up from his chair in the corner of the room, darting toward you. What you did miss was how fast Arturo crossed the few meters separating you, smashing your cocktail at the boy’s feet. His hands wrap around the boy’s collar as he tosses him over the lounge table like a ragdoll,

‘’ Why the fuck you got your hands on my girl, hijo de la chingada- ‘’

Arturo raises him up by the shirt and slams him back down against the glass table, beer bottles rolling off the edge,

‘’ Why is it always you causing problems? ‘’ he shouts. His grip is firm, eyes wide, teeth clenched, ‘’ You didn't get the message last time, asshole? Had to try and get my girl involved too, hm? ‘’

You had seen your man fight before, how he spilled blood, how his blood got spilled. Never had you seen his knuckles so white, his shoulders so tense, his eyes so dark. You can already taste blood in your mouth before his fist hits the boy’s face, once, twice. His sunglasses are slipping down his nose more and more each time,

‘’ Arturo, please, ‘’ You take a step forward putting a hand in the middle of his back, your palm hurts at the pressure, bleeding. You don’t want this, you think, this is too much, ‘’ Bring me home, I just want to go home. ‘’

You can almost hear him breathing over the music, heavy and deep, using all the self-restraint he can muster. A minute goes by and you have to pull at his shirt, damp with sweat, to catch his attention. Silently begging him once more to let go. He steps away with a groan, pushing away whatever is left of the man. He turns to you, chains swinging, tangled.

Arturo grabs your forearm, his hand is soft on your skin, not tight, not tugging you away like you had expected, gently pulling you to the stairs out of the club. He gives Ramón a look on the way out, grunting a half-apology, half-he-deserved-it speech. His friend just stands there as others slowly start cleaning up after him, you know Ramón won’t accept his apology, as in his eyes there is nothing to apologize for.

The walk back to the car is silent. You can tell Arturo is still boiling with anger, unspent rage waiting to be used. You follow him still, whispering a soft thank you as he opens the door to the car for you. The leather seat is cold under your thighs and your eyes look out to him through the window, he stands still, hands perched on either side of the rooftop.

He is looking up at the club, lips pursed, biting his tongue. Don’t do it, you think, get in the car with me. After a few seconds, he does, pushing himself straight, walking to the driver’s side,

‘’It wasn’t worth it, ‘’ you tell him as he starts the car, ‘’ to go back and finish this. ‘’

He keeps breathing, in and out, hands tightening around the wheel every once in a while. His arm leans behind your seat as he rolls out of the parking lot. He glances at you for a moment, but still, he doesn’t speak.

You take a look at your right hand, there are no shards of glass stuck, but even if the blood has dried out in some places, it still hurts when you close your fist,

‘’ Is it bad? ‘’ he breathes out after a moment.

‘’ It’s fine, most of the glass ended up in his face anyway. ‘’

That makes him crack a smile, barely there, just the corner of his cheek pulling up. His eyes soften as he looks at you, for the first time since leaving the club,

‘’ Will you let me take care of it when we get home? ‘’

You look back at him, softly pressing your left hand at the base of his neck, caressing the shaved hair,

‘’ Of course. ‘’

His hand finds your thigh, resting it gently on the skin,

‘’ I didn’t mean to make you… uncomfortable, you know? ‘’

You sigh, your own hand falling back onto your lap. You play again with the dried blood on your hand, pulling at it. It scared the shit out of you, is what happened. You are not blind, you know what Arturo and his friends do when you are not around, you see the guns peaking out of their jeans and how the coke that they pass around is definitely from its original packaging. You are not blind, but you do care for him,

‘’ I just don’t want you to get hurt, is all. ‘’ you turn to him, forcing a smile on your lips, ‘’ I like your pretty face untouched, I can’t bring a scarface back to my parents’ house. ‘’

He scoffs as he leans forward and pinches your thigh. You squeal, pushing his hand away,

‘’ Don’t do that! ‘’

‘’ You really smashed a bottle on his head? ‘’

‘’ I- ‘’ you laugh, forcing his hand to stay on his lap, ‘’ I did. ‘’

‘’ I knew they said going out with me was bringing out your wild side, but, mami, that shit’s wild wild. ‘’

You roll your eyes, ‘’ It’s not like I’m an outlaw all of the sudden. I was just defending myself, I’ll let you know. ‘’

‘’ Well, next time you let that to me, hm? ‘’

‘’ I will be calling the police first. I am not bailing you out again. ‘’

He groans as he brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the skin,

‘’ You really are no fun. I’m here trying to be romantic- ‘’

He rabbles away, like he always does, about this and that, how it ‘happen only one time’, that he ‘paid you back’. You never thought Arturo and you would work this well together, a weird match, out of god knows where. You don’t mind it, you think, you can take it. The wild, the blood, the crazy.

As long as you're with him.

[espritmuse]

okayyyy but dom bully mikasa who starts being mean to you when you get too close to eren and tells you you’re acting like such a slut around him until one day she eventually fucks you stupid calling you the same names and making you tell her your hers

—𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄—

⌕ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Mikasa Ackerman x Reader

⌕ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: semi public sex (school bathrooms), fingering, cunnilingus, meankasa and possessive Mikasa, a bit of degradation. [1.3 words.]

⌕ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: The beginning is just for a bit of context, you can just go right to the smut if ur too horny, it’s the best moment I guess…. (Yeah it is)

— 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑 —

Mikasa knew very well where this little game was going. Since the very beginning. But can you blame her for playing with you like she did? it was so fun, seeing you getting all flustered, seeing your eyes avoiding hers when you both met in the school corridors.

A boy. A stupid and meaningless boy. It was the problem, or rather, her excuse for treating you like she always does. Accidents, like she calls them in front of the headteacher when she is, once again, sent to his office.

But the line was definitely crossed last Saturday night, when you went to her boyfriend’s birthday party. Eren Yeager. It took you some time, perhaps too much time to finally realise and understand that jealousy was the cause of all of your mistreatment.

Daggers piercing your skin. That’s what her dark black eyes would’ve thrown if they could when her boyfriend shared his cup of alcohol with you. You weren’t that close to him, you weren’t even really his friend, but that was already too much, apparently. Since then, insults and humiliations got worse, so much worse.

“Slut.” This is what you could read on the body of your car, written in red paint. Eyes wide and mouth agape, you tried to use the sleeve of your shirt to wash the paint out, without any success. You looked stupid, like this, on the parking lot; and she didn’t miss a second of it.

3PM in the school restroom. That was the time and the place you were supposed to meet her at. You accepted, for some unknown reason, after reading it on the piece of paper she had left on your car. Curiosity, as it may be.

And there she was. Awaiting for you, her back pressed on the white wall, an unamused expression on her face. Unamused, until she heard your footsteps walking down to her.

Black nail polish. It was what her nails were painted with when she slowly slid them down your pants, looking straight at you, eyes lost in your own gaze, searching for the slightest glimpse of disapprobation.

Nowhere to be found.

“Don’t make any loud noises. You’ll regret it” She advised spitefully, in an inaudible whisper, her lips almost caressing yours. “Understood?” She then questioned rhetorically.

“Y…yes” you answered uncertainly, still a bit confused of what was just occurring in front of you.

“Good girl. Open your legs.” She announced in a rough voice. An order, that’s what it really sounded like.

You did so, spreading both of your lower members without any difficulties on the bathroom cabinet, sitting in-between the two sinks. Your movement seemed to please her because her lips curved into a small angelic and exited smile. The black haired woman placed both of her hand on each individual knees before pulling you closer to her.

She put one knee on the floor, then the second, before pulling down your underwear swiftly with her fingers. It was delicate, surprisingly. Your eyes weren’t missing a single piece of this moment, amazed and still a bit shocked.

“You’re a dirty girl you know. Couldn’t have guessed that.” She remarked, holding your pink lace lingerie in her pale hand, her curious and mocking gaze all over your underwear. “I wonder if the top is the same.” She started after dropping your pantie on the bare floor, “or let me guess, you’re not even wearing anything under your shirt? Hm?”

“I…”

“Shh…bad girls don’t talk.” She said, standing back up quickly and placing her hand on your face, her thumb caressing your cheek. You couldn’t even tell what was going on in her mind, her movements towards you didn’t give any further details. Was she playing with you? Maybe one of her friends was hiding and recording all of that? You didn’t know. You should’ve stopped.

But you didn’t want to.

Mikasa took both sides of your skirt and lifted it a bit, exposing your pubis to her perverted gaze and, suddenly, her mouth was painted with a very big and bright smile, as if this scenery was all the needed, everything she always wanted.

You were now all naked, with the exception of your skirt, that was still covering your ass and not allowing the cold surface to come in contact with your bare skin.

And yeah, she was right, you weren’t wearing anything under your shirt.

Her tongue wandering playfully around your warm core, you mentally begged her to pleasure you. You needed it, so, so much. It's funny when you think about it; you just hated her more than anyone on this earth some minutes ago and now, she’s between your legs at your most vulnerable state.

“Mikasa…. Can you…” you tried to say.

“Quiet.” She replied spitefully, the sound of her voice slightly muffled since her head was buried in your lower body. The raven-haired woman placed both of your legs on her shoulders, your knees bending at the curve of her bones.

It’s her tongue that you felt first, sliding slowly between your fold, trying to find its way to your clit. And it did find, pretty quickly, like it always belonged here. She moved it very slowly, at first, making sure to not hurt you or making you uncomfortable.

You grabbed her black hair, trying to keep your noises for yourself, as she ordered you to some minutes prior. You could feel every little thing, her steady and serene breath on your vulva, her nose brushing slightly against your mons pubis and her right hand stroking gently your right knee.

“See? When you close this fucking mouth��” she said between loud respiration. It seemed like she was talking to herself, actually. But you still listened carefully. “You…you’re fucking delicious…I knew it.” She continued, her words feeling even better on your clit because of the air she was releasing when she was pronouncing them.

Two fingers. Or maybe three, you couldn’t even tell. She started moving them very slowly inside of you, trying to follow the rhythm of her tongue at the same time. It was the same identical pace, you could tell. It felt fantastic.

You couldn’t even stop the noises from escaping your lips, it was impossible. Never in your life you have felt that great, that pleasured.

Her lips and tongue sucking on your clit, you almost didn’t notice when she replaced her mouth with her thumb. She got up from the dirty floor of the bathroom and got closer to you and, as a whisper, planted some soft kisses on your temples and your nose. You glimpsed a change in her behaviour, almost unnoticeable, but it was here.

“Mika….Mikasa…it…” you tried to say once again, but this time she didn’t interrupt you or, not directly; you simply couldn’t talk anymore.

“It feels good doesn’t it baby?” She whispered in your ear sensually. “Tell me how good I make you feel.” She continued.

“V…very very good…” you mumbled.

“Very good? Is that so?” She questioned gently, her knuckles moving back and forth inside your folds. “You’re about to cum, aren’t you sweetheart?” She asked as well after noticing your hands, who tried to grab her shirt uncontrollably.

You nodded quickly. But she stopped.

“You’re mine. Do you understand?” Mikasa said, looking straight in your eyes, a devilish smile on her angelic face.

“Mhh…. Please….why did you…” You protested, not even paying attention to the things she was saying.

“I won’t continue if you don’t say it back.”

“I… I’m y…yours…”

You finally felt her hands moving back in your body, allowing you to properly cum, your head buried in the crook of her neck as she was trying to keep her balance with her free hand, positioned on the mirror behind you.

“Turns out I was right all this time huh?” She started, once out of the bathroom, both of you looking all innocent, as if nothing had happened. “You’re such a slut.” She quietly proceeded in your ear.

You were right too, it was jealousy all of this time.

Thank you a lot for reading <333 reblogs and comments are pretty much welcomed !! Have a nice day!

<- Masterlist

[treasure-hwa]

hi! about your post on writing a scenario based on your playlist, could you do wonwoo + 17 please?

thank you so much in advance!💗

Wonwoo + The Time of My Life

fluff

You met Wonwoo at a common friend’s party. He was standing on the house backyard, away from the loud noise and the mess of people, exactly what you were looking from. You had agreed in coming to Seungkwan’s party only because he was a dear friend, but the man was also popular, an extrovert person and had dozens of guests, to which he enjoyed being a host. It wasn’t his fault you were shyer and needed time alone to recharge your social battery.

So, you were at the backyard too, and sat at the other edge of the bench where Wonwoo was, apparently, playing phone games. He noticed your arrival and quickly sat properly, closing his legs, and nodding his head politely. You greeted him and threw your head back and looking at the few stars on the dark sky, it felt great to go away of all those people for a while and you sighed at the thought.

— Too many people inside, right? — a deep voice asked and chuckled. — I’m Wonwoo, by the way, Seungkwan’s friend.

— Uh? Ah, I’m Y/N and, yes, I don’t like being around a crowd that I don’t know well. What about you?

— Same. But I’ve been outside almost long enough to get through the rest of the party.

You chuckled and kept answering his questions. Even though you went outside to get away of people, Wonwoo looked like a nice guy, and he spoke so softly and lowly that made you comfortable.

Neither of you were sure of how long it had been since you started talking when Seungkwan came outside to drag both inside again for a dance competition.

— No, thanks, I don’t dance — you answered.

— Wonwoo can dance with you, he’s a good dancer. If you don’t come here right now, I’ll get Mingyu to bring you by force!

— Nah, I’m good here, thanks — you knew he wasn’t for real.

— Wrong answer — Wonwoo shook his head.

Wrong answer indeed. Seungkwan frowned his eyebrows and shouted for the taller guy’s name, demanding he got you inside the house, which he did. Mingyu put you on his shoulder and effortlessly took you to the improvised dance floor. Fortunately, Wonwoo was right behind you and, unfortunately, laughed at your situation as he walked away.

Before you could protest with Mingyu when he put you down, you heard the song “The Time of my Life” from the movie Dirty Dancing start playing and, as you looked around, you saw Wonwoo on the dance floor, with his hand stretched to you. You looked shocked, but he nodded and got closer and took your hand on his.

— Just let me guide you — he whispered once he pulled your body even closer.

So, you allowed the man to move you around to the music; from the spins to the pulls to the hand in hand, you felt like Baby from Dirty Dancing, while Wonwoo made a great Johnny. People around you screamed and hollered, the energy was getting to you even more, but your stomach dropped when Wonwoo glued your bodies together and asked in your ear:

— Can you jump?

— What?

— Jump. Like Baby. I will lift you.

— Oh no, no, no. I can’t.

— Trust me, baby.

When he said that, you weren’t sure if he was saying the movie character’s name or the pet name, but it made you embarrassed anyway. The jump part was coming, and your mind still hadn’t decided whether it was safe or not, but when Wonwoo walked away, turned to you, and nodded to you, you ran and jumped, afraid of falling and hitting your head, but, somehow, you trusted him. He caught you and lifted you on the air. The other guests screamed so loud you couldn’t hear the song and the vibration of the place made hard to disguise your own hard heartbeat.

As the song was finishing and Wonwoo put you down, your front sliding down on his, you smiled small and concluded between heavy breaths:

— Good that I’m not wearing a skirt or a dress or I’d have shown a lot.

He chuckled and kept his arms locked around your waist so your body would be glued to his and safe on his hold. He looked at you and felt the urge to kiss you blinding his sight, but he couldn’t, not there among everyone, you wouldn’t be comfortable and would end up hating-

— I’ll kiss you now, alright? — you hushed out, probably wanting that as much as him.

Before he could process your request, he agreed eagerly, and your soft lips found his on a simple peck.

— Wanna take that outside?

I'm sorry it took me so long!!!!!! I hope it's decent!

[landoncrris]

I was wondering if you could write something with Mason and reader being on a date and he is teaching her how to play golf and in the end they have their first kiss? thank you in advance!💗

better than my dreams - mason mount x reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

notes: i hope i’ve explained it correctly, because i have never ever played golf either,,,

warnings: english is not my first language ; not proofread

word count: 1.9k

outside x

By the time you received Mason’s message, you were almost ready because you knew he’d be late. A trait you had discovered very early on, but luckily didn’t experience so much yourself because he was really trying to do his best for you.

You quickly put on your shoes, grabbed your purse and made your way outside where you saw Mason sitting in his car typing something into his phone. His eyes met yours as he heard the door close and he sent you a warm smile that made your stomach tingle.

Mason got out of the car and walked towards you, swallowing hard when he saw the short tennis skirt you were wearing, which gave a perfect view of your legs. “Hey.”

“Well hello there,” he greeted you, intertwining your hands and taking a step back to take one last look at your outfit. “You look really pretty, Y/N.” You smiled as he kissed you on the cheek, before walking over to open the passenger door for you.

“This isn’t too much, is it? I don’t know what to wear to play golf.” you asked as you both sat in his car, looking over at him as he pulled out of your driveway. He looked ridiculously good in his skin-tight polo shirt, which showed off his figure perfectly, and you certainly wouldn’t mind seeing this outfit on him more often.

“No, it’s not too much, Y/N/N, don’t worry. Like I said, you look stunning.” Mason assured you, glancing over at you before placing the back of his hand on your thigh, signalling for you to take it. “Thank you.” you smiled shyly and squeezed his hand in appreciation.

“Can’t help but think of what a lucky bastard i am to be seen with you.” he mumbled, eliciting a breathy laugh from you as you looked out the window, trying to hide your smile. “I’m the lucky one.” you replied, whereupon he pulled an ‘as if’ face and looked over at you as he stopped at a red light, taking in every feature of you.

“New nails?” he asked you, to which you looked over at him and nodded as he looked at them more closely. Mason’s attentive nature was one of the things you loved most about him. He always paid attention to every detail you told him and even noticed when you cut your hair just a little. That’s just how much he likes you, and he shows it to you every single day, making you become more and more sure about potentially being in a relationship with him. “I like them.”

“I’m glad. I’ll probably get new ones next week though, because these won’t match the season anymore...” you murmured, glancing at your nails before leaning on your elbow, which you placed on the open window. Your words made him snort slightly, as he found it strange, but at the same time adorable, how important your nails were to you. “Anyway, how was your day, Mase?” you continued to chat about your days as he drove you both to his favourite golf course.

“Mason?” you asked as he parked his car in front of the entrance and you saw a chip shop across the street, suddenly craving some. He hummed in reply as he unbuckled his seatbelt, “Can we eat something first?” and pointed to the shop as he looked over at you.

Your question made him chuckle to himself, mumbling a “Sure” before placing a kiss to the back of your hand and getting out of the car. “You want mayonnaise with them, don’t you?” he asked, intertwining your hands again, which made your body tingle, and leading you to the little shop across the street.

“You remember?” you smiled at him, proof once again of how well he listens to you. “Of course I do. I remember everything you tell me.”

“I’ll pay for it, don’t even think about it, Y/N.” Mason made clear just as you were about to pull out your wallet. “But-”

“No backtalk.” at which you shut up and bite your cheek to suppress your smile. You remained silent as he ordered, although you were a little puzzled by his order, thinking that he obviously had no taste. “Chips with ketchup, Mason, are you kidding? That’s disgusting.”

“Wrong. Ketchup goes with everything.” to which you smiled at him, finding his choice repulsive but still finding everything he does endearing. You stood outside the shop at one of the tables, eating in silence and just enjoying each other’s presence.

“You’ve got something on your lips.” Mason remarked, causing you to focus on him instead of your food, trying to follow his gaze and wipe it away - to no avail. “Here, let me...” he removed it with his thumb, right at the corner of your lips, while he desperately wished it was his lips that just touched yours, but was still too afraid to be rejected by you, even though you wished the exact same thing he did.

“You done?” muttered Mason after clearing his throat, which made you put the last chip in your mouth and hum. He took your two empty boxes and threw them into the bin, took your hand again and walked towards the entrance.

You both packed up everything you needed and made your way to the course, which was much bigger than you thought, and now you felt a little intimidated by the fact that you know absolutely nothing about golf. “You’ve never played it, have you?”

“Well... I played mini golf once, but that’s it.” you replied, the smile not leaving his face, instead growing bigger by the second, if that was even possible. “Show me what you got, Y/N.”

“Oh God, do you want me to embarrass myself?” you muttered to yourself, but did what he said anyway. You were at least very glad that it wasn’t windy at all that day, which made it a little easier for you. Mason stood beside you, but out of your reach, admiring the way the sunlight glistened on your bare skin and the way your face contorted in confusion. Seeing you always made his heart beat faster, but lately it increased, as did the happiness that consumed him when you were near.

“Well, that went great.” you looked off into the distance and watched as the golf ball flew in a completely different direction than it was supposed to, causing you to sulk in annoyance. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.” Mason said as he stood behind you and began to explain what you had done wrong.

“Alright, so you aimed the club correctly, but your body alignment wasn’t right. Your feet, knees, hips and shoulders must be parallel to the target line. Just like…” he aligned your body as it should be while you tried to listen to his words but were slightly distracted by his hands moving over your body parts and his chest pressing into your back. “…This.” he said when he was satisfied with your position.

“Now, the grip is the most important thing because it controls the club face. If it’s not right, the ball will fly in a different direction, like it did just now.” His body heat pressed against you even more now as he put his hands around yours holding the golf club and moved your fingers into the right position. “Perfect. Got it?”

“I think so.” you answered a little breathlessly, your head buzzing because he was so close to you. He moved his body slightly away from yours, but continued to stare at every inch of your skin. Seconds later, he traced the scar on your arm with his fingertips, sending a shiver down your spine. “How did you get it?”

“Are you trying to distract me, Mount?” which made him mumble a “sorry” before moving away from you completely and letting you have a second try. This time the ball flew in the direction of the flag, not even too far from it. “Did you see that?” You turned around gasping, a smile spreading across your face and your success making you a little cocky.

“I challenge you, Mount. Whoever’s ball is closer to the flag wins.” you grinned at him as he laughed at your excitement, even though you both already knew that he’s better than you. “I’m in.”

“If I win, I’ll pay for dinner next time.” you said as his smile widened even more, excitement building in his stomach at the thought of another date with you. “Alright... If I win, you have to kiss me.” the confidence crumbled after the words left his mouth. But the grin on your face assured him that he hadn’t crossed a line.

“Deal.” and for a moment you weren’t sure if you wanted to win or lose on purpose, because you longed to finally kiss him. But you figured that if you won, you’d kiss him today anyway.

But unsurprisingly, his ball came much closer to the flag, making you groan in annoyance as you really tried your best. “That was so fucking bad.”

“Consider it a victory.” Mason said as he turned to look at you, stepping closer as you took a sip of water to quell the nervousness that was overtaking you due to the slightly awkward situation. But you decided to gather your confidence and put your hands on the back of his neck, after you finished drinking, smiling at him.

You both didn’t really care how strange the situation was because you felt like this was going to be the best kiss you’d ever had and nothing could ruin it. Mason’s lips parted slightly, waiting for your next move as his eyes watched you wet your lips. You slowly moved closer until you felt his breath on your skin and your lips brushing his, lingering like this for a moment before going in for a kiss.

The kiss was gentle and he applied just the right amount of pressure. While neither of you knew where your relationship would lead, but from that moment on you had no doubt that you wanted the other person to be yours. Mason felt his body go into overdrive and a rush of adrenaline was triggered by the feel of your lips. His lips nestled perfectly against yours and your knees went weak from smelling his expensive aftershave.

You were the first to pull away from him and look at him while his eyes were still closed and your thumb stroked his lower lip. Slowly he opened his eyes again too and looked at you with a warm, fuzzy feeling clouding his mind. When he did, you saw the dilated pupils and as he brushed your hip bone soothingly with his thumb, you could feel that your nerve endings were more sensitive than usual.

You were both overwhelmed by each other’s beauty until reality caught up with you and happiness engulfed you, making you laugh sweetly and not break eye contact once with the man in front of you. Mason felt something he had never felt before after a first kiss, something that was always described so perfectly in movies, but he only now realised that it was not a lie or an exaggeration.

This feeling prompted him to approach again, for he could not get enough of the feel of your soft lips. “God you’re so much better than my dreams.”

[hoyatype]

does anyone else feel insane when they come across women/shaving/feminism discourse? in particular, when any assertion that having to shave one’s legs, pubic hair, etc is an unnecessary beauty standard and women should be FREE of this (my position btw)—

is immediately met w at least one woman saying: no, but i like it and i do it for me. statements like this don’t account for my particular situation where it’s not oppressive, it’s actually joyful! and i’m like…congratulations, you took a systemic analysis and narrowed it to your individual experience in an attempt to delegitimize it…thanks? it’s also deeply suspect that there are just so many women who have all independently and individually articulated a personal preference that conforms to what is normatively encouraged…starts to feel more like an enforced preference than an autonomously chosen one…

oh—and sometimes obscurely urgent reasons (it’s for sensory reasons and deeply important for this person’s neuroatypical existence) are brought into the discussion. i am sure this is sometimes true. but in many cases i also think people are uncomfortable with really facing their personal preferences and realizing that they’re not in alignment with their political inclinations, or uncomfortable having to own up to: well, i don’t have a defensible reason for this! so very often i suspect people are trying to invoke a Good reason that can elide critique…bc it’s uncomfortable to be questioned and reassuring to have a defense that forces people to drop any further questioning…

i genuinely would rather people be honest w themselves and say: i am doing this because i’m afraid of being socially and romantically and sexually penalized. it would feel more candid than having to obscure these behaviors as a personal preference.

and then we could have a real conversation about whether not shaving means that they won’t get the love they want.

personally: i’m not hardcore about this, i shave my legs when i wear shorts and skirts in the summer, but i just don’t agonize about my hair growing out a bit. it’s leg hair, everyone has it! and i’ve never ever ever shaved my pubic hair (sorry to burden anyone following me w this knowledge…) and i really haven’t had issues w this in multiple encounters and relationships with straight men. i am positive it DOES disqualify me for some straight men, but i don’t want to make a good impression on everyone, just an accurate impression of who i am and what my preferences and beliefs are. those guys are free to date women who are committed to spending $$$/month on waxing…i will never be that person and i am happy that no one i’ve loved expected me to be that person.

it’s not a terrible thing for someone to find you unattractive. it’s not the end of the world. it’s not a woman’s purpose to be attractive. and it is truly amazing and heartening that so many people fall in love with others who are not conventionally attractive! who are not dogmatically conforming to all beauty standards! “ugly” people can be loved and respected and cherished and i think that now, in an age of looksmaxxing femcel plastic surgery etc, we should remember this…

it’s funny how much i care about the Shaving Question bc in the grand scheme of things it’s a very small rebellion against beauty norms, but it is one i feel very passionate about and i really don’t understand why so many women are choosing to submit to it, spending significant time and money and effort plucking away all these hairs…especially when so many of these women, from my experience, are also constantly railing against the terrible chokehold that beauty norms and the male gaze have on them. (going to preemptively defuse a common objection here—that it’s different to defy a standard if you’re already very conventionally hot vs not—and note that the women i’ve been most perplexed by in this regard are cis white women who are fairly thin…they’re soooo close to hegemonic feminine beauty already and horribly afraid of losing out on any of it. i do think there’s some argument here that women who are already seen as ugly and unfeminine risk MORE by not conforming to beauty norms. but weirdly it’s woc, fat women, etc who are more likely ime to be the women who intentionally defect and choose their defections carefully. it’s almost like being on the wrong side of beauty standards encourages more criticality of it…)

it is just surprising and maddening to me. like. just don’t shave for 2 more days. or 2 more weeks. genuinely a lot of men do not notice and the ones that hold it against you are providing you with tremendously important insight into their expectations of women. and obviously a lot of women don’t care at all and you can be serenely unshaven together ❤️

i think it’s so important for women to defy feminine beauty/grooming standards sometimes, just for fun, just for practice—and when i say practice i mean it in the highest and most respectful sense: as a way of continually asserting your own agency against the onslaught of expectations for what it means to be a woman, to be “good enough”, to be “beautiful” (not to a specific person but in society’s eyes). i really do think women need to practice resisting beauty standards so that it becomes something possible and natural and even habitual. there is so much suffering present when you can’t escape these norms, and any act of defiance is a way of strengthening you against them imo

[keanureevesisbae]

tales of love - soft lips

Vision impaired!Syverson x Molly Sweet (asian ofc)

Summary: Sy really wants to kiss Molly.

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 1k

Masterlist // tales of love masterlist //

Molly and Sy had fallen into a routine of daily FaceTime moments, since their schedules didn’t permit a lot of long dates. Despite him not being able to use FaceTime like people should, she loved seeing him and Axel and that is the only reason he caved.

They’ve had two more dates with each other and yes, they hold hands, she gives him a peck on his cheek every now and then, but no, he had not kissed her yet. Not really kissed her. Sy wanted to, he desperately needed to feel her soft lips on his, but he was afraid of the consequences.

Kissing her meant officially inviting her in his life. He lived in semi solitude, just him and his loving canine and he was used to that. Just him and his own darkness. 

And now there was the brightest girl alive, who had so much potential to live the most thrilling life and yet she chose him. Constantly reminding him how save she feels with him, how he’s a great listener and she always looks forward to be with him and Axel. Even prior to the accident, he had never felt like this before and that made it scary. Not one thing in his pre-accident, therefore pre-blindness life could have prepared him for this.

Sy is waiting for her at the bus stop and one stops in front of him. He hears her featherlight footsteps before he hears: ‘Sy, there you are.’

He already holds out his arms and because she’s so petite, he’s never taken by surprise, nor does he stumble back when she jumps in his arms. ‘I missed you, Molly.’

‘I missed you more,’ she says, as she lets go of him. Already knowing what he is going to ask next, she answers: ‘I’m wearing a blush pink two piece, consisting of a matching crop top and a skirt, paired with white sneakers and some white socks and the socks have a little avocado embroidered on it.’

‘Did you do that yourself?’ he asks, trying to envision what it looks like.

‘Yeah, of course I did,’ Molly says, her voice turning a little bit higher because of the excitement. ‘What do you say I put something on your shirt?’

‘I’d love that, Molly,’ he says. Sy finds her hand and holds it, as the three of them (Axel obviously included) start walking towards the park. He lets her choose a spot. Just because he can’t enjoy the view, doesn’t mean she automatically can’t either.

They plop on a park bench and Axel is sitting next to Sy’s legs. Molly is over her initial awkwardness, because she starts to babble his ears off. But it’s no punishment, because he loves listening to her, her beautiful voice telling wonderful stories. From the movement next to him, he can tell she talks a lot with her hands and arms, even being on the receiving ends of some playful slaps.

Sometimes he wished he was able to see her, but the doctors told him he’d never regain his sight back. He is able to put it to rest, that disappointment. But now more than ever, he wished he could see her, could take her in. He wonders what she looks like, wants to see the glimmer in her eyes when she speaks and being able to stare at her in a loving way.

But that also raises the question: would he have met her had he not been blind?

She places her hand on his leg. ‘So, what have you been up to?’ she asks. ‘Feel like I have been talking non stop and am probably boring you.’

‘Don’t say that,’ he says. ‘You could never bore me.’ He wanted her to not do that, undermine herself, being negative about herself like that. But that’s a work in progress. ‘But… I haven’t been doing much today. Kinda had a slow day off.’

‘Sounds lovely.’ Molly lets out a content sigh and then asks: ‘Do you like me, Sy?’

It takes him slightly by surprise, but after a long second, he manages to pull himself together. ‘I do,’ he says. ‘More important question: do you like me?’

‘I really like you,’ she confesses. ‘You’re like on my mind 24/7.’ 

‘Likewise,’ Sy chuckles softly. 

‘But… If you like me, why haven’t you kissed me yet?’

The question hits him harder than he initially would’ve thought. ‘Because, Molly, I… I fear if I kiss you, I am unable to stop.’

‘How is that a bad thing?’ Molly asks. 

‘It’s not,’ he admits, ‘but… What if I hold you back? In life?’

‘Sy, I literally just told you you’re on my mind the entire day. You could never hold me back. Never ever, okay?’ She so gently places her hand on his chest, slowly sliding it upwards, until he feels her hand on his cheek. She often does that, not directly touching him on the spot she wants him to. When she wants to rest her hand on his shoulder, she’ll start from his elbow. She held his face multiple times now, however her hands always starts from either his upper arms or his chest, slowly sliding upwards to their final destination. ‘Kiss me, Sy,’ she whispers. ‘Please.’

The hand he had placed on the backrest of the bench, he now places on the back of her head, tangling through her soft hairs. She told him she had dark brown hair, leaning towards black. The straight strands are well moisturized and feel smooth through his fingers. 

Molly’s lips are pressed on his. He one time gently touched her face, touching her cute nose, booping it in the process, her straight eyebrows and her heart shaped lips, with the very defined cupid’s bow. 

Her lips are always soft and ready to be kissed. He felt it on his cheeks multiple times now, but to actually kiss her like this, makes him never want to let go. However, unless he wants to die because of lack of oxygen, he slightly pulls back so he can catch his breath.

‘Molly,’ he says, ‘please be my girlfriend, so I can kiss you a whole lot more and have unlimited access to those lips.’

As she rests her forehead against his, she lets out a chuckle, her hot breath against his still tingly lips. ‘I’d love that, Sy. I can’t wait to tell people I have the most wonderful boyfriend a girl could wish for.’

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Taglist: @diegos-butt // @crazybutconfidentaf // @lyrarodriguez // @thelastsock // @cherry-gemz // @oddsnendsfanfics // @kebabgirl67 // @abschaffer2 // @bourbonwithice // @eldarwen333 // @needmorereading // @gearhead66 // @kingliam2019 // @omgkatinka // @liecastillo // @xuxszx // @sofiebstar // @pterodactylterrace // @inlovewithhisblueeyes // @viking-raider // @identity2212 // @kneelforloki // @pretty-toxic-revolver //

[tricksters-captain]

Helmut Zemo (TFATWS) imagines - Craving Part 2

AN: Right giving you all what you really wanted... 

Summary: After playing the part as Zemo's arm candy in Madripoor, Zemo tries to confront you on your unspoken connection, only to be rudely interrupted...

In this chapter: After having a dream about the man himself, you decide to seek out Zemo...

(PART 1 HERE)

Pairing(s): Zemo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,013

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, receiving oral, choking, Zemo does use a couple phrases in his language and since Sokovia isn’t a real country or language I used Polish (I have seen several fic use German before however). 

You tossed and turned in bed as you tried to get comfortable. Your skin felt hot and uncomforatble to be in and your mind wouldn't stop replaying Zemo’s hands on you. The large bedroom made every movement sound louder than it was so every time you rolled and made the bed frame creak, the more you frustrated you grew. 

You hated Zemo for making you feel so confused. He was an attractive man, that was true, but he had torn the avengers apart. He had used Bucky’s past against him several times and even gotten you hurt because of it. Why did you all of a sudden have the desire to see what he tasted like... 

You figured he’d taste like mint toothpaste and whiskey or perhaps of coffee from earlier or perhaps.... What were you doing?! 

You buried your face into your pillow and groaned. 

You must’ve fallen asleep eventually because you had started dreaming. 

You were back in Madripoor. It was Sharon’s high town home and you had just changed for the party. Except you weren’t wearing what you actually wore that night. Instead, you were wearing a long silky black dress that dropped to the floor with a small trail. It had thin black straps that went over your shoulder and connected to the dress delicately; the dress was completely backless and the cool air from Sharon’s AC tickled your exposed skin. 

“You look beautiful.” Zemo’s voice filled the room. You looked up in the mirror to see Zemo standing at the door behind you. 

“It’s not too much?” You asked, flattening out the skirt with your hands. 

Zemo made his way towards you until he was right behind you. The hairs prickling up on your back revealed just how close he was standing. 

“Not at all.” Zemo brushed the tip of his finger along your shoulder, following the curve from your neck and then down your arm until he cupped your elbow gently. “You look perfect.” 

You felt your breathing stop as Zemo started to learn forward, his eyes remained locked with yours in the mirror as his lips finally met your skin. 

He kissed your shoulder lightly before opening his mouth and grazing his teeth against your flesh, biting ever so gently but with enough pressure to make the sex between your legs throb. 

“We shouldn’t.” You whispered. 

“Why not?” Zemo turned you to face him with the hand that rested on your elbow. He brought you closer to him, pressing a hand to the exposed small of your back. His strong calloused hand against you only made your legs feel weaker. 

“You know why.” You placed your hands on his chest but didn’t push him away. Yet. 

“Ahh, yes. Because of James?” Zemo tilted his head. “What would poor James do if he caught us together like this?” Zemo let his hand slide down the outside of your thigh and hook under your knee, bringing your leg up to his hip to bring you closer. 

You smirked, leaning into the man’s ear. Brushing your lips just ever so slightly against his lobe as you spoke. 

“He’d kill you.” You whispered. 

That’s when you woke up. 

You woke up covered in sweat, your chest heaving and your hair slick to your forehead. You didn’t know how long you’d been asleep for because Bucky was now asleep on the couch in the room too. 

You hoped you didn’t sleep talk anything weird during that dream but you figured that Bucky would be waiting for you to wake up to confront you if you had said Zemo's name or something similar. 

You climbed out of the bed quietly and headed towards the door. You knew you wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep after that dream and you had felt gross from waking up all sweaty so you made your way to the bathroom. 

You splashed cool water on your face and wiped your neck and chest with a damp towel before you left the bathroom again.

You looked down the hall to Zemo’s room. 

You knew which one it was for safety measures. Sam had taken the room beside his so that he could keep an eye on him but you knew Sam would probably be in the living room on his laptop at this hour to keep watch. Make sure no one is sneaking in or out of the apartment. But that also meant you could creep over to Zemo’s room without the anxiety of Sam coming out of his. 

You found yourself walking before you could stop yourself. 

You hovered outside the door for what felt like an eternity before you lightly rapped on the door. 

You opened it without hearing a response. 

Zemo was sat up on the edge of the bed, tying his robe around him as he must have had been woken by the intrusion. 

“I thought you were Sam.” Zemo rose to his feet after he realised it was you who had entered. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” You apologised. 

“You didn’t. I was merely laying in the bed. I did not lie when I told you about my struggles with sleeping.” Zemo had mentioned his insomnia in the kitchen before. 

You remained in the doorway, just looking at Zemo, panicking slightly as you tried to find something to say. 

“I don’t know why I’m here.” You said lowly. 

“You don’t?” Zemo cocked his eyebrow at you but didn’t move. 

“I just...” You started, “I had this...” You failed to explain yourself.  

“Shh. Shh. Shh.” Zemo waved his hand. He slowly made his way towards you. “You don’t need to come up with excuses.” 

“I’m not.” You argued. 

“Just tell me the truth.” Zemo was now in front of you. He was close enough that you could see the slight stripe pattern on his dark pyjamas beneath his robe. You could also see slight hair poking out of the top of his shirt as the first few buttons were undone. You resisted the urge to reach out and stroke your fingers down his exposed chest, to explore what was beneath his silk pyjamas...

“I-I...” You struggled to respond. You almost felt like punching a wall at how frustrated you were at the fact that Zemo somehow managed to leave you completely speechless. 

“I often use these long nights to think.” Zemo spoke so you didn’t have to. 

“What do you think about?” You questioned. 

“A lot of things usually.” Zemo waved his hand as he spoke. “But these past couple nights I’ve found myself thinking of something more out of the ordinary.”

“And what’s that?” You asked.

“You.” Zemo cocked his head as he looked at you.

You felt a heat grow between your legs as you watched his eyes flicker to your lips for a second. 

“May I?” Zemo stepped forward, reaching his hand out to close the door behind you.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his face passed yours. Zemo slowly pulled back from the door, your faces were mere inches away from each other as he hadn't bothered to go around you to close the door but over your shoulder instead. 

Your gaze met. The thick tension around you was suffocating. 

With his right hand, he reached up and cupped your jaw, firmly underneath your ear. His thumb ran over your cheek; his touch burning against you.  

Zemo leant forward, closing the space between you, and kissed you. 

It was a sweet kiss. A first kiss. He was testing the waters. 

Just as he went to pull away, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him back in. Your body flushed against his as a powerful urge took over you. 

Desperation. Need. A fire that grew in your stomach.

Zemo placed one hand in your hair and it’s counterpart on the small of your back. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as he tugged lightly at the back of your hair. 

Zemo’s mouth traveled down your jaw to your neck. His tongue sent goosebumps over your skin as he explored it. He could taste the saltiness from the result of your dream. 

“Did you get all hot and bothered for me, mały ptaszku?” He cooed as his hand moved from your hair to your shoulder. He stroked down the back of your arm until he reached your elbow. You felt your heart skip with the flashback to your dream. 

“What are we doing?” You asked breathlessly as you clung onto the man’s robe. 

“Anything you desire.” He lifted his head back to face you. 

There was a beguiling darkness in his eyes but it didn’t scare you. It only enticed you. 

Zemo took your hand and brought it to his lips. He pressed a silky kiss to your fingers all the while maintaining eye contact. The way his lips look as they curved against your fingers made your stomach tighten with want.

Zemo had noticed the blazing fire in your eyes as you watched him. He smirked, taking just one of your fingers and placing in between his teeth. He dragged it gently, grazing your finger as he pulled it down his lip; the cool night air tickled the wetness on your skin.

Zemo let go of your hand before lifting his own fingers to your lips. You let out a shaky breath as he stroked his thumb along your bottom lip. 

“So beautiful.” Zemo took a moment to admire you. Your lips were slightly plump from his kiss and your eyes were wide, glistening in the dim light. 

You reached forward and steadily untied his robe. He shrugged off the extra layer at your silent request. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Zemo’s searched your eyes for any hesitation or uncertainty but failed to find any. 

You nodded your head ever so slightly. 

“Words, kochanie.” Zemo ordered.

“Yes.” 

“Good girl.” Zemo’s mouth turned up at the corners. You felt your stomach flutter at the praise.

Zemo kissed you again. His large hands held either side of your neck as he guided you deeper into his room. 

You took one of the man’s hands and dragged it down your side, ushering it towards the inner of your legs. 

“Does my little bird want to be touched?” Zemo’s voice was low as he spoke into the kiss. 

You bit down on his lip and urged his hand closer. 

Zemo chuckled at your response. 

“Use your words.” He instructed you. 

You parted from the man when you realised just how close the bed was. You sat down and pushed yourself upwards so that Zemo would have to follow to continue kissing you. He recognised the play. 

“I told you to use your words.” Zemo tutted as he remained stood at the bottom of the bed. You felt him wrap his hand around your ankle before tugging you back down to him. 

You gasped at the sudden action, staring up at the man with lust blown eyes.

Zemo knelt down at the end of the bed. His hand moved up your ankle and began to push up your pyjama leg up. His lips pressed against your ankle, nipping and licking your skin as he worked his way up your calf. 

When he reached your thigh and could go no higher, you helped him by removing your pyjama bottoms. You suddenly felt very exposed in just a tank top and your panties. 

“Such a good girl.” Zemo smirked at your hurry to strip for him. 

Zemo held your thigh with his hand, he dragged his tongue along the inside of it, biting your skin softly but didn’t venture too close to your core. He could sense just how desperate you were for him as your legs began to slightly shake with want. But he wanted you to beg...

You reached down and buried a hand in his thick, styled hair. He only smirked and glanced up at you through his eyebrows as you tried to bring him closer to you. 

Zemo hooked his fingers around your panties and pulled them down, freeing your hot sex to him. 

Zemo sent you a dark smile just before he pressed his tongue against you. The smell of you was too much to resist, he had to taste you. You inhaled sharply as he buried himself between your legs. His tongue teased your clit as his forefinger began to circle your entrance.

“So wet for me.” Zemo murmured. 

His finger pressed inside of you and you arched your back, desperate for more. 

“It’s been a while, mały ptaszku?” Zemo was watching your every reaction as he pumped his finger in and out of you. “For me too.” He confessed. 

His tongue found your sensitive bud again and applied more pressure, causing your grip on the man’s hair to turn even tighter. Zemo groaned at your tugging. His eyes lulling back as his boxers became very tight around his member. 

You could feel your walls tensing as he entered a second finger inside you. Your stomach twisted with your approaching climax. 

“I’m gonna...” You barely managed to breathe out two words out.

“Sing for me, mały ptaszku.” Zemo commanded, his eyes glued to you as he watched you come undone around his fingers. 

Zemo retracted his hand as he allowed you a moment to recover. He wiped the slick wetness from his chin as he regained his stance. 

You leant forward and took hold of the man’s shirt, tugging him towards you. Zemo teeth scraped against your lips as he kissed you fiercely. You craved for him to be inside of you and he craved the same. Watching you cum for him only made him ache with want and need. 

“Zemo...” You used his name for the first time that night, “Please...” 

Zemo couldn’t resist your pleads. 

He tore his pyjama shirt off and stripped of his bottoms, revealing his thick member. 

You reached forward, taking hold of him to feel his impressive size. His tip dripped with precum and the groan that rumbled from his throat at your touch only made you want him more. 

Zemo placed his hands under your arms and tossed you higher up on the bed. You exhaled a shaky breath at the dominant action. He climbed on top of you, parting your legs with his knee. 

“I feel I need to remind you that it has been a very long time since I have been with a beautiful woman such as yourself so I shall try my best to hold back.” Zemo was honest as he aligned his tip to your entrance. 

He slid himself up between your folds spreading your wetness on his head, you felt your convulse at the feeling of his hard cock on your throbbing clit. 

Zemo’s jaw clenched tightly as he finally pressed himself into you, his eyes closed as he relished the feeling. 

You rocked your hips against his as he filled you completely. 

Zemo remained still a moment as he just you fully adjust before he started to move inside of you. 

His hand found your throat as he began to pick up his pace. 

Your nails dug deep into his skin as he squeezed your neck lightly. 

Zemo thrusts became deeper, harder and with every stroke, you felt that sweet spot ache inside you. 

Zemo began to murmur in Sokovian under his breath as he fucked you.

You wrapped your legs around him, your body begging him to fuck you harder. Zemo was happy to comply. 

He thrusted deep within you. Sweat was building on his forehead and his skin felt like fire against your own. 

You clawed at the hand that was wrapped around your neck. Longing for more pressure. 

Zemo eyes rolled back for a moment as he felt your walls begin to tighten around him. 

“Fuck... (Y/n)...” The sound of your name on his lips sent a wave of electricity through your body. 

Zemo released your neck to grab hold of the  headboard behind you. His knuckles turning white as he fucked you faster. 

One of your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, clinging onto him tightly and Zemo took the chance to sink his teeth into your forearm. You winced at the delicious pain and bit down on your lip to stop yourself from cursing. 

As your second climax suddenly engulfed you, your legs tensed around the baron. The feeling of you pulsing around him was enough to bring forward his own finish. He cursed in his native tongue as he filled you with his seed. 

Zemo dropped his hand from the headboard as he tried to support his weight above you. 

His hot breath danced across your face as he panted above you. 

Zemo removed himself from you and fell beside you. 

You brought your arm up and ran your fingers over the indented teeth marks in your skin. 

“You could’ve done that somewhere less visible.” You scolded the man. 

Zemo weakly smiled at you as he tried to recover. 

“I apologise.” He said through his heavy breathes. 

You reached over the side of the bed and scooped up the baron’s silk pyjama shirt. You wrapped it around you as Zemo watched you with curiosity. 

You slid off the bed and went over to the decanter by the couch in Zemo's room. You poured yourself a glass of scotch and a glass for Zemo before returning to his side. 

“This never happened.” You held out the glass to the man. He took it carefully before clinking the glass against your own. 

“What the soldiers don’t know won’t hurt them.” Zemo was referring to Sam and Bucky. “Doesn’t mean it can’t happen again, no?”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” You straddled the man, downing your drink. 

Zemo placed his hands on your thighs, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. 

“What does mały ptaszku mean?” You suddenly recalled the name Zemo had kept calling you now that your mind wasn’t clouded from lust. 

“Little bird.” Zemo smirked. 

AN: Hoped you enjoyed ;)

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